


Fidelity

by ginger_mosaic



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Genderfluid Loki, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Open Relationships, Post-Original Sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_mosaic/pseuds/ginger_mosaic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is this idea gaining popularity in recent years that you should marry your best friend.</p><p>So she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Terrible Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki proposes a truly awful idea and Verity, despite her better judgment, gets roped into it.

_Doubt thou the stars are fire_

_Doubt thou the sun doth move_

_Doubt truth to be a liar_

_But never doubt I love._

(Hamlet, II:ii)

 

“Marry me.”

Verity paused in her reading to look down at Loki and frown. He was lying with his head in her lap, as he was wont to do whenever she read. She slowly pulled her fingers out of his hair. She hadn’t realized she was touching him and was a little embarrassed by how comfortable she had become with him. Despite everything she knew about him.

His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she didn’t answer right away. He looked up at her expectantly, rather calm for someone who had just proposed. She suspected it was feigned; either he was being facetious or looking for a reaction. Either way, she didn’t much appreciate being made fun of.

“You don’t mean that,” she said at last, turning back to her book. It was a large book about astronomy that she had not expected to be particularly interesting, but reading about the construction and destruction of stars was actually fascinating.

“Yes I do.” It came out like a petulant whine and Verity began to roll her eyes, because Loki always whined when he was caught in a lie and it ruined some game he wanted to play, and Verity didn’t feel like playing games right now, but then she froze. There was no lie in that protest. _Yes, I do mean it_. But that only proved he meant to _ask_ her to marry him.

“That would be a terrible idea,” she said.

“Well, I am full of terrible ideas,” Loki agreed. “Regardless, I still want you to marry me.”

“Terrible idea,” Verity repeated.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” He reached up and took her hand—the one holding the book unfortunately, so she quickly transferred it to her other hand and put it on the table next to her. She wondered what he was thinking, because she could have dropped the book on his head, but then she realized he just wanted her to put the book aside so all her attention was focused on him. Damned gods and their constant need for attention. Or maybe it was just Loki.

He held her hand in both of his own and looked up at her with a sincere expression that Verity did not for a _second_ believe. “I want you to marry me, Verity,” he said, and then after a beat, he got straight to the point: “Yes or no?”

Well, at least he _asked_. She half-expected him to just keep demanding.

“No,” she said.

The pouting began immediately. His stuck out his lower lip and dropped his hands to his chest without releasing hers.

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Because I don’t want to marry you,” she said.

“Why _not_?” There was the whine. She had wondered when it would make a repeat appearance.

“Loki, really? You can’t figure that out for yourself?” She sighed and extracted her hand from his. “You know it would only be a disaster.”

“How so?” he demanded.

“Well, first of all, you’re the god of _lies_. We’re not exactly a good fit.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “We’ve made it work before,” he said. “And the irony of it is what makes it so appealing.”

Verity smacked him lightly on the top of his head. “You’re asking me to marry you to be ironic? Hipster.”

“Says the woman with two tattoo sleeves and a music collection full of artists no one would recognize,” retorted Loki. “Not to mention your square-framed spectacles and cynical tendencies.”

“See, that’s another reason,” snapped Verity. “I’m not going to marry a man who mocks me constantly.”

“You just make it so easy. It’s funny.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be getting married anyway?” said Verity. “You’re like fourteen.”

“Excuse me,” said Loki indignantly, “but you know better than that. Age doesn’t much matter to gods of the eternal realms.”

“But that’s just another reason,” Verity pointed out. “You don’t have much to commit to, because you know I’ll die in sixty years. Or less. And marriage is a big deal on Earth, you know. There’s a lot of legal stuff to deal with.”

“Well, statistically speaking, I’ve died more times than you have,” mused Loki, “so I’m more likely to die again, if you know what I mean. Like getting struck by lightning.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“Besides,” he continued, “if it’s commitment you’re worried about, you don’t have to commit yourself to only me. I don’t mind. And if you want to divorce me any time, that’s all right, too.”

“How is that different from what we have now?” asked Verity. Whatever what they had now _was_. Friends with benefits? Though they hadn’t slept together in a few weeks. She wasn’t sure what they were.

Loki shrugged, his shoulders shifting against Verity’s thighs. “We’d be married,” he said simply.

Simply. As though that’s all it was. It seemed like a huge commitment to make on Verity’s part, not to mention a legal minefield with Asgardia and the United States.

“Why do you want to marry me anyway?” asked Verity. “This seems really out of the blue.”

He shrugged again. “I like you.”

Verity raised an eyebrow. “And it has nothing to do with becoming a U.S. citizen through marriage?”

“Verity!” said Loki, feigning shock with a hand splayed over his heart, and when she raised the other eyebrow, he hastily added, “That is one of the benefits, I suppose, yes, but that’s not the only reason. I like you. I want you to be with me.”

“Or do you just want a committed worshipper?” she asked, realizing that she was involuntarily stroking his hair again. She pulled her hand back.

“Well, yes, that’s going in the vows, of course,” he joked. “I am a god after all. But no, I just like you. I want you to be a more permanent fixture in my life. Marriage seems the thing to do that.”

“I still don’t get why we can’t just keep doing what we’ve been doing,” she said. “What’s wrong with staying friends?” Or whatever they were.

Loki looked away toward his feet, which were propped up on the arm of his couch. Verity waited, but when he didn’t answer, she lifted a thigh to jiggle his head and prompt him.

“I lose friends,” he muttered at last. “Haven’t lost a wife yet.”

Verity looked away, too. He didn’t want to lose her, but would getting married really decrease the chances of that? Did he just want to somehow legally bind her to him, so she _couldn’t_ leave him? That could work both ways, she supposed; she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him either. He was her best friend, and she had already almost lost him once…

But it would be an absolute disaster of a marriage. And he had to know that.

“You get what I’m saying though, right?” she asked quietly. “All the ways this could go wrong? How big a commitment it would be for me? I’m not sure I’m prepared for the consequences of marrying you.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I understand.”

“And what would I get out of it?” she asked, knowing it was a heartless question, but if they were going to do something crazy like this, she had to be practical about it. She would not mislead him.

“I’d cook for you.”

“You already do that.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

Verity frowned. “What does that mean?”

Loki finally sat up and turned to face her. “I did some reading,” he said, “and did you know that single women make a million dollars less than their married counterparts in their lifetime? And pay more on their income taxes? And on healthcare? Did you know married women live longer than single women? Or that—”

“Okay, stop,” said Verity, holding up a hand. “I’ve read that article, too. And it’s not all proven, though the math does add up in some places. But you’re saying you want me to marry you so I’ll get health and financial benefits?”

“We’ll both get benefits,” said Loki. “I told you I had several reasons.” He took her hand again, pulling it into his lap and stroking it with his thumbs. “I want to keep you around,” he murmured.

That was… odd. Here was a god, who needed constant attention and probably a few devotees, telling her in no uncertain terms that _he_ wanted _her_. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? She would be flattered, but then again, it was Loki. Someone had to feed his ego, and if he could keep her around to do so... And yet— _and yet_ —there seemed to be something more than that. Maybe he did want her, in his own strange way.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Why don’t you just marry all your friends?” Verity muttered, but when he met her eyes with a sad smile, she squeezed his fingers. “Let me think about it.”

Loki’s smile brightened and he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Of course,” he said with a smirk. “Honestly, if you had agreed right away, I would have demanded to know who you are and what you’ve done with my dear friend Verity Willis.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she warned. “I’m still leaning towards no.”

“Yes, but you’re just leaning,” he said cheerfully, and he stood up. “How do chicken tacos sound? I got this new lemon pepper.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki didn’t mention it again for almost two weeks, and Verity assumed that meant he hadn’t been serious or that it was a whim and he had forgotten about it. Loki was a fickle and compulsive person anyway, and Verity supposed the desire to marry her had passed.

She felt a mix of relief and faint disappointment. Marriage had symbolic weight that a lifetime of social conditioning pressured her into desiring. Despite that, romantic symbolism never sat right with her; it rarely came honestly and often felt fabricated—though for whose benefit, it varied. Loki, at least, was honest about why he doted on her: He needed her attention as much as she needed his. And they both knew it. Maybe that was why they got along at all.

So she was surprised when they were sitting in a café after he picked her up from work and he brought it up.

“Have you thought about it?”

She glanced at him over her glasses, which were slightly fogged from the coffee cup she held close to her face for warmth. It was cold outside and a relief to feel the heat from the coffee on her hands and face. He sat across from her with a peppermint latte that he hadn’t touched yet. He was wearing the horns today, though he assured her he was wearing an illusion to everyone else.

“A little,” was all she wanted to admit. She put down her coffee but immediately wanted to pick it up again, to have something to do, because Loki was watching her with an infuriating calm and she wished he would drop the act already.

“…And?” he prompted after a while.

“And I’m still not sure,” she said, looking down at her coffee. “It’s a big deal, you know?” She shook her head, because of course he didn’t. He didn’t know what it was like to live in a world that lies to you about everything you should want and should do, and even though you _know_ it is all bull shit, you’re taken in anyway. Somehow, deep down, you _want_ that lie. The pressure was overwhelming sometimes.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table, which made the uneven legs tilt it a little. “It can be whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Comfortable. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She wasn’t comfortable. With anything. For her whole life, she surrounded herself with things that were _certain_ , with things that would never lie to her—books filled with facts and figures, music with little to no lyrics, jobs consisting mostly of data entry—and she had gotten comfortable with it. And then Loki entered her life and brought with him magic and stories that were true even in their impossibility, and it wasn’t _comfortable_.

But it was thrilling. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was really living. She had friends who didn’t bother lying to her and she could hear fantastical stories that everyone around her growing up would have loved. True lies. It confused her, but that wasn’t entirely bad.

It _was_ entirely impractical to marry Loki. And the more she thought about it, the more she found she didn’t care.

“Yeah, okay,” she found herself saying.

“Okay?” asked Loki, unable to disguise the hope in his voice.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she clarified. “Let’s get married.”

Loki’s grin nearly split his face and his green eyes shone on her with unmasked joy. It was the most real smile she had seen on him in… a long time. Since the All-Mother’s betrayal, probably. In spite of her reservations, Verity felt no small amount of giddiness in reply. This was so dumb. So foolish and reckless. So sure to end in disaster.

But it might be fun while it lasted.

“Really?” asked Loki, leaning even further onto the table, reminding her of a little kid. She supposed some things must have remained.

“I have some conditions,” she warned.

Loki smirked. “Of course.” He sat back and finally picked up his latte. He took a sip without taking his eyes off her and waited.

Verity sighed and held up a finger. “First, I have the right to divorce you whenever I want and I will have the ability and the means to exercise that right.”

Loki frowned. “You really think I’d—”

“Yes,” said Verity firmly. “You yourself have told me several times not to trust you. I won’t.”

“I’m not trying to trick you,” he muttered into his latte. “I just want you to marry me.”

“Second,” Verity continued, ignoring this rather sweet truth, “I want witnesses, and I get to choose them.”

“Fine,” Loki agreed immediately, which struck Verity as suspicious until he added, “But I get to choose one, too.”

“Who?”

“Thor.” He shrugged when Verity stared at him. “He’s family. And I’m not sure he’d ever forgive me for getting married without him,” he added with a sly smile.

“We’re _not_ having a wedding,” said Verity, pointing a firm finger at him.

“I didn’t think that was your style, no,” Loki agreed, nodding. “But it could be fun.”

“No.”

“All right, all right.” He raised his hands in surrender. “So who is your witness, then?”

“America Chavez.”

Loki made a face, wrinkling his nose and raising a corner of his lip in a sneer, but Verity met his eyes evenly and he sighed. “Fine. I suppose that’s for the best. Draw up your terms, Verity Willis,” he said, draping an arm over the back of his chair, “and we shall be married in the morning!”

“No.”

“It’s a figure of speech!”

They finished their coffees and wandered outside into the cold. With warm coffee inside her, Verity could see her breath in the chilly air. She tightened her scarf and curled her gloved fingers into fists, hoping to keep the heat from the coffee shop in as long as possible. Loki didn’t seem at all bothered by the cold, even though he was hardly wearing more than he usually did. His coat had fur lining, she supposed, but he still wore fingerless gloves and hardly tried to bundle up like Verity did, even though it was December. _Damned Asgardians_ , she thought.

The sun was setting, and the skyscrapers of New York cast the city in cold shadow. Verity thought to head to the subway, but Loki grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the entrance.

“Wait,” he said, “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise.”

It wasn’t a surprise, because as he led her by the hand down the street, it became obvious where he was taking her. Only a block from their destination, Loki finally stopped and told her to close her eyes.

“Loki…”

“Just close your eyes, Verity.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

“Not like this, you haven’t. Close your eyes.”

Verity sighed, but obliged.

“No peeking,” said Loki, taking her hand and pulling her forward. He walked slowly and warned her of curbs and snow banks and other people. Verity felt a little foolish letting him lead her through the city blind, but it was a harmless game. When they turned a corner, she cracked one eye open to check where they were, but before she could really see anything, Loki jumped behind her and covered her eyes with his hands.

“No peeking!” he scolded.

“You’re pushing my glasses into my eyes,” Verity complained.

Loki loosened the pressure on her face but didn’t remove his hands. “Just a bit further,” he said, pushing her forward so they were walking awkwardly down the street.

“You’re kicking my heels,” said Verity. Loki shifted so that he was walking at her side with one hand over her eyes and one hand on her waist. “You know I know where we are, right?”

“Shh. You’re ruining it.”

Verity rolled her eyes behind her glasses and marched forward until Loki stopped again. He finally released his hold on her.

“All right, open your eyes.”

She did and found herself—surprise, surprise—in the middle of Rockefeller Center, facing the Christmas tree. It was lit up with golden lights, shining like a beacon in the fading daylight. There were already several groups of tourists taking pictures, even though the tree would look much more impressive at night. Verity didn’t see what the big deal was; it looked the same as it always did.

“Loki, I’ve seen the tree before,” said Verity, sighing. “I’ve been living in New York for a long—”

She turned around and stopped. Loki was kneeling down with his hands wrapped around something on top of his knee, looking up at her. The corners of his lips curled up in a smile that was obviously masking a great desire to laugh.

“What are you doing,” said Verity flatly.

“Verity Willis,” said Loki very formally, his eyes glinting with the golden light of the tree.

“Stop it,” hissed Verity, glancing around. Some people had already stopped to watch, wide-eyed. Verity saw a few phones emerge. Tourists. Was this why he brought her here? She was going to kill him.

“Will you—”

“Stand up. Right now.”

“—do me the greatest honor—”

“I swear to fuck, I’ll kill you.”

“—and marry me?”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep,” Verity hissed under her breath.

Loki just beamed up at her. It was taking every ounce of self-control she had not to hit him.

“Well?” he said, holding out a small black box. It was open, and Verity only saw a glint of gold inside before she reached out and snapped it shut.

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, I told you yes, just put that away—”

Loki didn’t let her finish. He rose to his feet, grabbed her waist, and lifted her up to spin her around. Verity heard some cheers and whoops from the tourists. She put her hands on his shoulders for balance, because, jeez, he could lift her high, but that gave him the right leverage to let her slide down so that their bodies were pressed together and her arms were around his neck, and when Verity was back on her feet, Loki kissed and dipped her. The onlookers’ cheers became joyful screams, and Verity wanted to vomit. She couldn’t _believe_ Loki was doing this to her. She should have said no. The moment he got down on one knee to perform this farce, she should have spat in his face and said no.

He broke the kiss and grinned lazily down at her. Verity’s face felt hot and she was sure she was glowing red. She just wanted to get away from the crowd and scream at him. Not that it would help. He seemed to derive pleasure from making her angry.

When she was completely right side up again, she took his wrist and dragged him from the center of the square back toward the street. From the cheers and shouts of “Congratulations,” Verity was sure Loki was waving and blowing kisses or something equally ridiculous back to the crowd. She didn’t stop until they turned a corner, and then she released Loki’s hand and shoved him.

“You asshole!” she shouted, smacking his shoulder as hard as she could. He probably couldn’t even feel it. “God damn it!”

Loki just laughed and skipped out of her reach. Verity kicked out and managed to catch his backside with her toe, but he danced away. She chased him down the street until he was laughing too hard to walk. He leaned against a wall and Verity weakly smacked his back once more, feeling exhausted. Her throat hurt from running and breathing cold air.

“Fuck. That was so embarrassing,” she bit out, shoving her hands into her armpits to keep them warm. Her hands stung a little from hitting him, probably because he had his scale armor on under his coat. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.

Loki stopped laughing long enough to smile imploringly at her, though his shoulders still shook with remaining chuckles. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

Verity glared at him, wishing she had the power to set him on fire with her eyes. Loki sighed and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“Ah, Verity,” he said, starting to walk again, “I keep telling you: You need more magic in your life.”

Verity put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, but he kept hold of her shoulder. “That sort of bull shit is _not_ magic.”

“Perhaps,” said Loki, “but it was worth a shot. Romantic crap isn’t always crap.”

“Public proposals are. They’re insincere and showy.”

“Well, think of it this way: At least you can experience it from someone you _know_ is _always_ insincere.”

“You’re not _always_ insincere,” she said.

Loki squeezed her shoulder in a half-hug. “Thank you, m’dear.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the black box again. “I don’t believe you actually saw what was in here, and I did work so hard to get it, so it would be a shame if you never even looked at it.”

Verity pursed her lips. He just raised his eyebrows and jiggled the box, so she took it, letting him steer her down the street while she opened it. Inside the black velvet ring box, nestled on a white cushion, sat a thick gold ring with the setting in the shape of a golden rose.

Loki leaned in and pressed his cheek against hers. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed, hardly able to speak through her surprise. She actually did. It was exactly the sort of chunky jewelry she would wear.

“I made it. Sort of,” he added when she rolled her eyes at him. “It’s Dwarven work, but I added a charm. It’ll get warm if someone nearby means you harm.”

“I can usually tell by their lies,” Verity reminded him.

“Not everyone uses words first.” He stopped them. “Would you like to put it on?”

“Okay.”

Verity held out her hand and Loki pulled off her glove, exposing her fingers to the cold evening air. He slid the ring onto her left hand and then quickly kissed her knuckles before fitting her glove back on. The ring made it difficult, but her gloves were large enough that it only posed a minor obstacle. She was glad; it was much too cold to go without.

“It will adjust its size slightly, if you want to wear it over thinner gloves,” said Loki. “The charm should work through most fabrics.”

Verity stared at the lump in her glove. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You’re quite welcome,” said Loki, taking her arm.

“But this doesn’t make up for that stunt you pulled back there,” she added, tucking her hand into the place where their elbows linked.

“Oh, you liked it.”

Verity tried to elbow him, but it was awkward, and besides, he was sort of right. The romantic gesture was false, but then, Loki didn’t exactly _mean_ it to be otherwise. Unlike others, who would make the romantic gesture for the sole sake of romance, Loki’s intention was clear. Every lie he had ever told her, every adventure he had taken her on, followed in the same vein. He could show her something with an understanding on both sides what it really meant. A cynical way to live, maybe. But it was all Verity could have.

Maybe they _were_ a couple of hipsters.

“Oh yeah,” she muttered. “This was a great idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this fic is inspired by Mythtaken Identity's work "Apothecary," in which Loki sort of reflexively asks Verity to marry him. I wondered what would happen if Verity said yes.
> 
> This story diverges with canon shortly after Original Sin, in part because that's all I've read and also partly because from what I've heard, Axis was very messy. This story also works with an expanded timeline. The differences will become clearer in a few chapters.


	2. A Formal Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki breaks into Avengers Tower (again) to surprise Thor. (Surprise, Thor!)

Oftentimes, Loki liked to think of himself as a “security systems evaluator.” Norns knew the Avengers desperately needed one. As he scaled Avengers Tower, several invisibility items cloaking him just in case they improved their magic detection since the last time, he entertained the idea of officially offering his services on the matter—he didn’t mind wearing a white hat every once in a while—and wondered if he could convince them to pay him. Not an exorbitant amount, of course, though he could probably charge back pay for all the previous “tests” he ran on their tower. And their mansion. And all their other properties. Then again, Stark might take offense to that and throw Loki out the window.

A chill wind blew over New York, making Loki’s coat flap slightly, and cold air swept up against his back. He suppressed a shiver and clung to the side of the freezing tower. Usually he would just jog jauntily up the side, but the sky threatened snow and Loki didn’t want to chance the wind knocking him down. He only just got engaged; it would be a terrible waste to die so soon.

A gust whistled as it passed and Loki pressed himself to the tower, grinning foolishly. He could have simply texted Thor that he wanted to meet, but he thought to kill two birds with one stone by sneaking into the tower. He could alter some documents through the Avengers’ super computers that would make his naturalization go more smoothly, and in the eventuality that they caught him, he could tell Thor about his engagement to Verity. He fought down a laugh at the very thought. He could still hardly believe she had said yes. He had been expecting her to refuse, and though that would have been a shame, he would not have blamed her. Perhaps she still would reject him. If she didn’t, he might have to fear that he was rubbing off on her, and that wouldn’t do. Verity had to stay Verity, cynical and practical and true.

There were too many Lokis running around now as it was.

When he finally reached the proper floor, Loki dug into his pocket for the glass cutter he had borrowed from Lorelei. Well, _borrowed_ might be a strong word. But she would figure it out and just steal it back from him, like most of their exchanges went, so no harm, no foul, really.

He traced a wide circle into the glass window with a magic marker and then pressed the glass cutter, which was shaped like a tennis-ball sized beetle, onto the tower. It hummed to life, glowing faintly yellow, and followed the circumference of his circle, and when it was done, it deactivated and dropped back into Loki’s outstretched hand. He stowed it back into his coat pocket and gently pressed his fingers against the glass. It popped out inside the tower, but before it could drop, Loki caught it by the edge and carefully leaned it against the inside wall. Then, with not much else to do, he rolled head first through the hole. When he’d gotten to his feet again, he turned and fitted the glass circle back into the window. The seam wouldn’t be obvious from far away (Lorelei’s glass cutter was brilliant, he might ask to buy it off her), and he could always use it again.

With his entrance point concealed, Loki jogged down the hallway. Stark had indeed increased security to the tech; there was an eye scanner now in addition to the code pad. Unfortunately for Stark, Loki knew the override codes, though he had to try a few before he got the right one. After this, they would probably be useless; Stark would be pissed that Loki stole the overrides from his own Starkpad. Iron Man really shouldn’t leave it just _lying around_ his _bedroom_.

Loki knew the security breach would be discovered eventually (he was counting on it, really, and deactivated his invisibility for specifically that purpose), but when the door opened behind him, he was only two-thirds of the way through his work on his own records. He really could have used more time, but perhaps it would be enough. He would just have to do his best not to involve Verity in the inevitable mountains of paperwork. The woman worked so hard already to put up with him, there was no need to strain their marriage with his past misdemeanors.

“What are you doing?”

Fuck. Loki knew that voice, and he was hoping someone less heavy-hitting would be the one to confront him first.

“Hello, Dr. Banner,” said Loki without turning around. “I wondered when someone would come for me. I’m a little busy at the moment, however, so could you call on me again later?”

“Step away from the computers, Loki,” said Banner, sighing heavily.

“Just five more minutes?”

Loki winced as Banner stomped up behind him, and he only just managed to wipe the evidence of what he had been working on before Banner grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him backwards.

“What were you doing?” demanded Banner, and Loki was relieved to see that the good doctor’s eyes had not turned green.

“Research,” said Loki, “but actually, I’d like to speak with Thor, if it’s not too much trouble. I bring good tidings, you see.”

Banner glanced at the computers behind Loki and then shot him an annoyed—but not green—glare before pressing a finger to his ear.

“I’ll bring him to you,” said Banner, apparently over a transparent communication device in his ear. “Come on,” he said to Loki.

Loki put his hands up and gave Banner a bright, innocent smile, but Banner just rolled his eyes and grabbed Loki by the elbow to steer him down the hall to an elevator. They ascended a few floors, which made Loki a little nervous because he didn’t fancy being thrown out from quite so high. The elevator stopped once to let the archer on.

“Staying out of trouble, I see,” said Barton.

“You know me,” said Loki. “How’s Little Lady Katie?”

Barton scowled at him, though whether it was for the use of Kate’s forbidden nickname (and the additional pop culture reference) or the mere mention of Kate, Loki couldn’t be sure. “She’s doing fine.”

“Tell her to give me a ring, would you?” said Loki. “She hasn’t been replying to my texts.”

“Probably because she knows better,” said Barton, crossing his arms.

Loki shrugged. “Perhaps.”

When the elevator came to its final stop, Banner still had a strong grip on Loki’s arm, and Barton grabbed the other one. Both Avengers dragged him into the lounge room where Stark, Rogers, Romanova, and Thor waited in varied positions of agitation. Stark and Rogers were both standing, Stark with his arms crossed over his chest, but Romanova and Thor were seated on the couch, seeming to have settled on simply glowering.

With the elevator door closed behind them, Banner released his hold on Loki. Barton did the same but with a little shove so that Loki stumbled forward to face the Avengers.

“Er… Hello,” he said, straightening his coat. “What a surprise, meeting all of you here.”

“What the hell are you doing in my tower?” demanded Stark. “Again.”

“Testing your security system,” said Loki, before he could stop himself. Sometimes his tongue ran away from him.

“You damn little—” Stark started toward him, but Rogers held out an arm to stop him.

“What were you doing on our computers?” asked Rogers. “Were you falsifying your records again?”

“Falsifying?” said Loki, feigning shock. “You make it sound like I’m illegally forging documents when I’m merely… _editing_ ones that already exist.”

“That’s still illegal,” said Romanova.

Loki shrugged. “It’s not my fault they’re full of inaccuracies regarding my current state. I only mean to rectify—”

“Enough, Loki,” said Thor at last. “You will cease your slashing upon the internet—”

“You can’t stop me, I ship who I want, Thor.”

“What business do you have with me?” Thor asked, ignoring him. “And why do you sneak into the tower if you do?”

Boredom, mostly. But Loki couldn’t say that; it would make Stark even angrier, surely prompting him into a round of defenestration, and Loki didn’t like the look of the glass windows in this room. Loki glanced around and realized he was playing with his fingers, so he folded his hands behind his back and took a deep breath.

“I’ve come to inform you of my betrothal,” Loki said with a confidence he didn’t really have but which he could fake well enough, “and to request that you stand as witness to our union.”

Thor stared at him blankly for a long time, and Loki couldn’t blame him. It _was_ probably a shock, and Loki had announced it without preamble for maximum effect.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” said Barton from behind Loki, “but did you just say you’re getting _married_?”

Loki turned to beam at him, posing with his fists on his hips. “Yes, indeed. I told Dr. Banner I brought good tidings, did I not?”

“What,” said Stark flatly, his shoulders slumped.

“Brother, is this true?” asked Thor, rising to his feet and frowning. When Loki nodded, Thor’s frown melted into a bright smile. “Who?”

“Verity,” said Loki, unable to mask his glee. He hadn’t told anyone yet—indeed, who would he tell? His best friend already knew—and the relief of saying it out loud brought a certain sense of actuality to it. He felt warmth bubbling up inside, and he was not quite sure what it was, but it made him want to laugh, so he did. “I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.”

Thor began to laugh, too, and then he rushed forward and swept Loki up in a bone-crushing hug. Loki was never sure what to do when Thor did this, so he settled on patting Thor’s back. He couldn’t move much to return the embrace anyway; Thor had him wrapped up pretty tight. Almost like a straightjacket, and with that thought, Loki wriggled in his brother’s embrace until Thor finally released him.

Thor held him by the shoulders and beamed. “I’m happy for you, Brother,” he said, and for some reason, he seemed a little sad as he gazed at Loki. “And happier that _you_ are happy.”

“Yes, well,” said Loki, trying to smooth out his coat, “that’s the typical result of having your proposal accepted.”

“Who is this woman?” asked Bruce. “Is she a god?”

“A mortal,” said Loki. “We met at speed dating.”

The Avengers’ blank stares were _so_ worth that admission. He didn’t want to reveal too much about Verity to them, for fear that they might interfere with her just because of his association with her. A legitimate concern, Loki thought. But he would also admit only to himself that part of it was a selfish desire that Verity be _his_. _His_ friend, almost like a secret. He would allow no one to touch her. Or to use her against him.

“And this woman,” said Romanova, “she knows she’s marrying you? You’re not tricking her, are you?”

Loki snorted. “I am not the Enchantress.”

“The lady Verity cannot be fooled,” said Thor, and Loki was grateful that he did not elaborate further on this point. “If she will marry Loki, she does so of her own accord. Unless you have somehow found a way to bewitch her,” Thor added to Loki, frowning his disapproval in advance if this was the case.

“Only with my innate charm and natural good looks,” said Loki, and he winked at Stark when the man scoffed.

“I want to meet this woman,” said Barton. “This smells funny to me.”

“You stay away from my friends, and I’ll stay away from yours, Barton,” said Loki.

“Deal,” said Barton, after a pause. Loki shrugged. He had not actually been texting Kate; the truth was _he_ knew better. The only person from the team he ever contacted was America, and that was just because she could punch him through a wall. Best to keep tabs on someone like that. He suspected the feeling was mutual.

Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder again. “Fear not, friends,” he said. “Verity is of formidable strength of mind and true-hearted. Though I would speak to her before the ceremony,” he added.

“That can be arranged,” said Loki, “but the ceremonial nonsense will be kept to a minimum. It seems she can’t be convinced to have a wedding.”

“Too bad,” said Rogers. “I’ve heard Asgardian weddings are quite the party.”

“Not her style, unfortunately,” said Loki, shooting the captain a grin. He reached into his pocket, and it seemed to him that the Avengers tensed until he produced his phone. “If you want to give her the shovel talk, Thor, you’ll have to give me your schedule so I can arrange a meeting,” he said, typing out a text to Verity. _The Avengers say congrats. Thor wants to give you the shovel talk._

“Do we need to give _you_ the shovel talk?” asked Stark.

“Certainly not, I should think,” Loki replied. “Need I give you one?”

“That’s enough,” said Thor. “Come, Brother. I would speak to you further and toast to your engagement.”

Loki let Thor lead him to the elevator and to his floor, where Thor poured two steins of beer and settled onto the sofa to make a toast. Then, while they drank, Thor made him recount the proposal, which Loki did with a few embellishments (though not so many that they would make their way to Verity’s ears and anger her too terribly). Loki explained why they needed Thor and America to witness the ceremony at City Hall and the vows they would make (most of them for Verity’s protection, though that went unsaid and mostly implied). Thor readily agreed and somewhat sheepishly admitted he was glad for the precautions.

“Verity is intelligent, and do not doubt that I love you, Brother,” said Thor, “but you cannot begrudge me some suspicion.” He paused, considering his stein before looking up again. “Loki,” he said gravely, “is there some other motive for this marriage?”

Loki sighed. “I suppose you are right to ask.”

“I am sorry.”

“I do care for Verity,” he admitted. “Very much so. But I’m sure you’ve already figured out what political advantages this marriage might afford me.”

Thor nodded, though he looked a bit guilty. “Naturalization. But it will take three years, and I should not like you to toy with Verity’s heart for that long.”

“She knows.”

“But have you talked to her about it?”

“She knows,” Loki insisted, but Thor just gave him a look and Loki sighed again. “I’ll discuss it with her,” he promised.

Thor nodded and looked down again. “I still don’t like it,” he said at last. “There are other ways to avoid returning to Asgardia.”

“I know it might not work,” Loki admitted. “It could be a diplomatic nightmare. But it is one way among many, and it seems worth a go. Besides,” he added with a grin, “in the meantime, I get to be married to Verity.”

Thor chuckled. “She is good for you, Brother.”

“Hmm. Yes, she keeps me honest.”

Thor outright laughed at that. They toasted again, and after another stein or two, Thor escorted Loki from the building through the front door, making him promise to call ahead next time so they could at least get a head start on catching him. Loki walked down the street, feeling pleasantly warm from the ale and Thor’s congratulations, and he wondered only briefly about why Thor knew so much about naturalization. But then it was obvious, and instead, he wondered how soon after that fateful meeting Thor had looked into it. And if even Thor did not want to be forced to return to Asgardia, how bad were things becoming?

(But then, Loki already knew the answer to that.)

His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupted these rather despondent thoughts. It was a text from Verity.

 _That sounds terrifying_.

Then: _I’m free on Tues for lunch._

Loki smirked and typed: _Are you free now?_

He watched the moving dots on the screen indicating her incoming reply: _I’m finishing up at work. I’m STARVING._

 _I’ll make steaks_ , he wrote back, and then put his phone away. _Forget Asgardia_ , he thought, the skip returning to his step. He had a fiancée to whom he must attend. Asgardia could be dealt with later.


	3. Loopholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which America expresses skepticism and Loki is a no-good, rotten, cheating... trickster.

“You wanna run that by me again?”

Verity grimaced as America Chavez slowly and deliberately set down her milkshake. She would have taken America out for coffee, but then America had insisted she was craving a milkshake, and as long as Verity was going to tell her something that might make her angry, she might as well cater to her whims.

“Loki asked me to marry him,” Verity repeated. “And I said I would.”

“Why?” asked America immediately, in an almost accusatory tone.

Verity shrugged. “Somehow he convinced me—you know how he is—and I—”

“No,” America interrupted, “although we’ll get to that. Why did he ask you?”

“He said he wants to.”

America just stared at her. “And that’s the truth,” she said skeptically.

“Half the truth,” said Verity, taking a sip of her chocolate shake. “He also wants the benefits that come with marriage.”

America snorted. “Such as?”

“Health and tax benefits, mostly for me,” said Verity, and she paused before adding, “United States citizenship for him.”

America’s eyebrows shot up. “Hold up,” she said, leaning in, “you’re telling me this is a green card marriage?”

Verity began to protest, but thought better of it. “Yeah,” she admitted, “But I think it’s also something more? Like, he seems to want to marry me on its own virtue.” She wasn’t about to tell America about Loki’s rather pitiful admission that he just didn’t want to lose her. That seemed private.

“Okay,” said America, sounding not “okay” or convinced at all. She picked up her chocolate banana shake. “And you agreed to this… _why_ , exactly? You realize he’s the patron god of lies,” she added, as though Verity needed a reminder.

“Patron god of a couple other things, too,” said Verity without thinking. America raised her eyebrows in stunned disbelief. “I know, America,” she said hastily, fighting down a blush, “and I can see through illusions and any lie I’m told. Do you know how I first met Loki?” she asked, leaning forward. “Speed dating. _Speed dating!_ ” Verity threw up her hands. “ _That’s_ how desperate I was to meet someone who wouldn’t lie to me. Sure, a friend talked me into going, and yes, speed dating is probably the worst place to look for people who don’t lie. And then, of all the people I could have possibly met, I met the fucking _god_ of lies. And he was the only person all night to not tell me a _single_ lie.

“Do you know how rare that is?” asked Verity, leaning in again. “ _Everybody_ lies. I can forgive the little things, like answers to ‘How are you?’ or personal, private matters, but everyone lies about something. You lied when you said you were doing all right, but I didn’t call you on it because that’s your business. But that night, the only thing _Loki_ lied about was that he had no interest in me. And he has hardly lied to me since.”

 _Brave heart, Verity_ , Loki had said to her, _there_ are _people in this world who’ll never lie to you. Not_ me _, obviously. But they do exist. I promise._

And wasn’t that the funniest thing— _Not_ me _, obviously_ —because, as it turned out, Loki was one of the very few people in her life that didn’t lie to her. There was the first time with “Sigurd’s rescue mission,” but after that… Well, then the _entire_ truth came out, and that sort of made up for the deception. Now he only lied on purpose, knowing and anticipating that she would see right through him, playing it like it was a game, another way of telling her the truth. Annoying, but then, that was Loki. He knew her power, so he didn’t bother with lies.

She suspected that it was the greatest irony of both of their lives.

“I don’t expect anyone to understand,” Verity continued. “Hell, even Thor doesn’t really get it, and he _loves_ Loki.” That much had been apparent at their lunch meeting that week. He earnestly adored his brother and simultaneously didn’t trust him. “But we have _something_ , whatever it is, and somehow I care about that asshole. It’ll be fun for a while, if nothing else.”

America listened in silence. Verity was aware that she was ranting, but she couldn’t stop. Everything she hadn’t been able to say before to Thor came spilling out. It was just difficult to talk to Thor, because he didn’t _know_ yet. She had only been able to tell Thor that she was sure and knew the dangers and was prepared to protect herself, and yes, she would call Thor if something happened.

She was getting reckless, she knew. But she wanted to take a chance on this. Just once.

“It sounds to me like you’re settling,” America said at last, quietly and without much force.

The thought had crossed her mind. “Maybe I am.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” said America. “You’re hot stuff.” Verity laughed. “For real, though. You don’t have to.”

“Right now? Yeah, I do. And I’m okay with it. Really,” she insisted when America raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I can’t lie to myself either.”

America studied her for a while, twisting her mouth around in thought, as though words were struggling to escape and she was forcing her lips to stay shut. Finally, she sighed.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll witness for you and chico. I don’t approve, but as long as you know what you’re doing… What you’re getting into…” She paused, and then, with urgent emphasis, “What he _is_ …”

“A child-killing body-snatcher. His words,” Verity added when America looked surprised. “I’m actually probably the most qualified expert on Loki in the world right now. Not that I know _everything_ , but…”

America huffed and sat back. “Well, as long as you know.”

Verity nodded. She also knew it was his greatest regret, but he had admitted this to her in a rather personal moment, so she kept it to herself.

“I can’t believe this,” said America, shaking her head. “Chico getting married… You know like a year ago he was twelve?”

“And _you_ know he wasn’t really,” Verity replied around her milkshake straw.

“He never is what he seems,” America admitted.

“And to me, he is always what he seems,” said Verity.

America met her eyes and Verity held her gaze. She was glad America was there, being suspicious and wary, because if it really _was_ crazy to do this, America would stop her. But Verity also needed her to know that this was ultimately her decision. And, Verity felt, it was. She could have said no. She could still. But she didn’t want to.

“All right,” said America. “Run me through the terms. Though I think you’ll need a lawyer,” she added. “And a damned good one, to deal with chico.”

“Thor has Tony Stark’s on standby,” said Verity with a smile, reaching down to her purse for the list of terms she was writing up. “But we _are_ talking about a master of wordplay and loopholes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki texted Verity that he wouldn’t be able to pick her up from work because he was “a little tied up.” She tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t meant it figuratively; she didn’t want to know _what_ he was doing.

When she arrived back at her apartment, she removed her coat and carefully peeled off her gloves to not disturb the ring. She was halfway to the kitchen when her eye caught on a blue box on her coffee table. It was wide and thin, with a white ribbon around it, and she couldn’t remember it being there when she left in the morning. Verity nudged it cautiously and when nothing happened, she picked it up. There was no card, but there also weren’t many people who would break into her apartment and leave her mysterious gifts.

Verity pulled off the ribbon and let it flutter to the ground while she lifted the lid of the box.

Then she put it back down on the table and pulled out her phone.

 _I told you, no wedding,_ she texted Loki. _That means no dress._

There was no reply, of course, because he was probably still busy, but he would see it later. Verity glanced down at the blue box and frowned, but after a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the lid again. It was definitely a white dress folded inside, nestled in tissue paper. Curiosity got the best of her and Verity slowly reached down and lifted the dress from the box.

It was strapless and the bodice was covered in rose-patterned lace. The skirt was long, high-low, and full. It wasn’t exactly practical for winter, but then, it was hardly practical at all. She wasn’t going to wear it.

Despite this indisputable fact, Verity carried it into her bedroom and tried it on. It fit almost perfectly, and the rose lace complimented her tattoos well. She was beginning to see a trend in Loki’s gifts, but she supposed she should be happy he didn’t go with a weird serpent theme. The only thing wrong with the dress was the bust size; it was a little too big, and she thought it might show a little too much cleavage, dipping down in a steep V. Verity wasn’t surprised; this was Loki after all.

Verity stood in front of her full-length mirror and examined her reflection. The dress was actually very nice. She twisted her hair up off her neck and pulled the bodice with one hand when it slipped a little. Not bad.

She frowned at herself in the mirror and scoffed. “You—” she began, but she faltered, uncertain what she meant to say. Or who she even meant to address.

Verity slipped the dress off and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants, feeling annoyed and in need of a glass of wine.

It wasn’t until she had already made herself a Rice-a-Roni chicken dinner and had two glasses of wine that Loki’s reply finally arrived.

_No dress? Well, whatever you say, but I was under the impression that nudity at City Hall was frowned upon. ;)_

Verity rolled her eyes and started to text back with a sarcastic reply, but then he sent another message.

_I assume you’ve eaten?_

_Yes,_ she replied, _but come on over._

 _Be there in a flash_.

 _Not literally, I hope_ , she typed, but as soon as it sent, there was a burst of green light under her front door. Verity rolled her eyes again and got up to open the door before Loki could even knock.

He was standing in her hall, looking at his phone, dressed in his swashbuckling outfit. “Yes, literally,” he said, without looking at her.

“Thanks for knocking at least.”

He put his phone in his pocket and beamed at her. “I would never presume to intrude upon your privacy.”

Verity stepped aside to let him in. “Except apparently to drop mysterious packages on my coffee table.”

“Did you try it on?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Do you like it?”

She crossed her arms and frowned at him, but Loki just dropped onto her sofa and grinned.

“Well, I won’t have to take it back then,” he said.

“You might have to take it in,” she retorted. “The bust is too big.”

Loki grimaced. “Damn. I figured as much.” He slung an arm over the top of her sofa and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Show me?”

Verity pursed her lips and gave him a look over her glasses, but he just raised a patient eyebrow, so she sighed and went back to her bedroom to change again. When she came back out, Loki was texting madly, his thumbs flying over the screen, but he stopped and set his phone aside again when he saw her.

“Wow,” he said. “Nice.”

“I can’t wear this to City Hall,” she said. “I’ll freeze.”

“You can wear a shawl.” He looked her up and down, his lips curling appreciatively. Verity put her hands on her hips and glared at him until he got to his feet. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

“It’s too big up here,” she said, demonstrating that she had to pull at the bodice to keep it in place.

“Ah,” said Loki, stepping up to her. “Well, I suppose that’s what happens when I ask for Lorelei’s help. May I?” he asked, spreading his hands to hover on either side of her bust.

“Uh, yeah. Lorelei?”

“I asked her to help me dress shop,” Loki explained, pulling the dress up like Verity was and holding it in place. “Of course that meant I owed her a favor, because you can never just have a girl’s night out with her. So that’s where I was today: Doing her a favor.”

“And you were tied up?” snorted Verity. “What, were you playing Bondage Queen?”

“Oh no, Verity,” said Loki with a lecherous grin, “when I play Bondage Queen, _I’m_ never the one tied up.”

Verity wrinkled her nose at him. “Liar,” she whispered. Loki winked at her.

“Just so. Excuse me.” He stuck his fingers into the side of the bodice, to measure the difference. “I see what you mean,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s go to the mirror.”

Verity led him into her room, where he instructed her to stand in front of the mirror. He stood behind her and unzipped the back of the dress, and Verity felt him pull on the fabric a little.

“Pull it up,” he ordered, and Verity did so.

“You know, if you used Lorelei as your red-haired model, then of course it wouldn’t fit me,” said Verity. “She’s _way_ curvier.”

“Don’t put yourself down, Verity, your breasts are terrific.” He reached around and grabbed one, as if to prove his point, grinning over her shoulder.

Verity peeled his hand off coolly and he returned to adjusting the back of the dress. He pulled it tighter and Verity tugged at the front.

“How’s that?” asked Loki.

Verity checked in the mirror. “Better.”

“Better as in ‘perfect,’ or better as in ‘well at least it’s not falling off’?”

“The former. It’s comfortable.”

“Okay, I can fix it,” he said decidedly.

“How?”

Loki grinned at her in the mirror. “Magic. Do you have a sewing kit?”

Verity rolled her eyes. “Somewhere.”

“I’ll alter it then. But first,” he said, lowering his voice and sliding his hands into the dress from the back, “we have to get you out of it.”

“Loki…”

“You look delicious, Verity,” he said, nipping at her neck. “Like iced cake. Devil’s food.”

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“I’m sure I’ll find something to nibble on.”

He pushed the dress down and his hands found her breasts. Verity let her head fall back onto his shoulder and he kept kissing her neck. When one of his hands trailed down her stomach to push the dress down more, Verity leaned back into him and let herself fall.

For whatever reason, they hadn’t done this in a long time, not even on the night of the proposal. Hell, it had been three days since Verity had _seen_ Loki. Apparently in that time, he had been shopping for her wedding dress and doing whatever favor for Lorelei. And incessantly Instagramming, as was his wont.

They would definitely see each other more often now. Even if he disappeared for months again.

It had been only a few days after the “rescue mission,” which, it turned out, wasn’t a rescue mission at all but an excuse for Loki to infiltrate Asgardia’s dungeons. When Verity found out, she was angry, but there was nowhere for that anger to go. Loki vanished. He didn’t answer her texts, he wasn’t posting on Instagram or Yamblr, and neither Lorelei nor Sigurd knew where he had gone.

And then he came back and she stormed into his apartment and demanded an explanation.

And, miraculously, he had given one to her.

 _In order to be here—to exist in this form—I did something… Something that I…_ Regret.

And then he’d told her. He told her about Loki’s plan to be reincarnated without the old Loki’s bitterness, to let the child that was reborn achieve hero status so that Loki would gain others’ trust, how he usurped that child’s body, in effect _murdering_ that child, how he manipulated the Young Avengers, how he came to the decision that he had to _actually_ do better this time, so he went to work for the All-Mother to erase his past self’s evils…

And then how the All-Mother betrayed him.

There was another Loki. An evil Loki. A Loki that was him from the future. And that’s what he found in Asgardia’s dungeons.

His _destiny_.

And then he vanished again, teleporting away before Verity could even react, before she could even tell him that she didn’t believe him. Oh sure, he was telling the _truth_ , but it wasn’t a truth to which she subscribed. And when he finally came back, weeks and too many unanswered texts later, she told him so.

_I don’t believe there’s an absolute future. I don’t believe we can’t change anything. I don’t believe you can’t change. But I do know you won’t change if people stick you in a big box marked “Loki” and nail the lid down._

_So screw the All-Mother, and screw that Loki_ , she had told him as he stood in her apartment living room, stunned. _We’ll figure this out. Together._

Despite her assurances that she wasn’t going to abandon him and his promises that he wouldn’t disappear like that on her again, it took a long time for their friendship to mend after that. A long time. But he kept coming back, and Verity knew now it was because he couldn’t bear to lose another friend. And neither could she.

He might disappear for stretches of time—that’s just what he did—but he would come back. They were going to be married; he would have to, if he wanted his plan to work.

Verity would be lying to herself if she thought that wasn’t part of the reason she said yes. He really brought out the worst in her.

“We’re terrible people,” she murmured aloud.

Loki hummed against her stomach. “Yes, well,” he said, his voice rich as chocolate, “then we can be terrible people together.”


	4. Beloved Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which even America’s cross sobriety can’t ruin Loki’s wedding day (but a bad dream might).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid I must disappoint you, dear readers. I fear you have been expecting a Big Fat Norse Wedding chapter (“There’s two kinds of people: Norse gods and everybody else who wish they were Norse gods”). And, alas, Verity did not allow for that to happen. I wanted to focus more on their married relationship in this fic than a wedding.
> 
> So, uh, they’re basically eloping. Which is more fun, right? :D

“Reader, I married him.”

(Charlotte Brontë, _Jane Eyre_ )

 

“By the power invested in me by the multiverse, I now pronounce you _drunk as hell, chico_.”

Loki giggled and leaned more of his weight onto America, dragging his feet. He felt warm and light. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time, if ever he had felt like this, and he was determined to enjoy it, despite America’s cross sobriety.

America shifted his arm over her shoulder to support the new weight and scoffed in irritation. “I swear, chico, if it weren’t for the fact that you just got hitched, I’d leave you in an alley.”

“You know,” said Verity from somewhere behind him, “I only agreed to wear these shoes because you promised to teleport us back.”

Loki glanced over his shoulder to grin apologetically at her. Though she was valiantly trying not to, Verity was relying heavily on Thor’s arm. Keeping her balance was made difficult by her white heels and the fact that she drank almost as much as Loki had—the mortal equivalent anyway, because if she’d actually drunk as much as he had, she would probably _die_.

“M’pologies, dearest Verity,” he said, “but I could try anyway, if you wish.”

“No way,” said America. “You can hardly stand, much less focus enough on the spell. We might end up on the moon.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “Like a _honey_ moon!” he said, and he opened his mouth again to speak the spell, but America clapped her hand over his mouth.

“No,” everyone else said at once.

“You guys’re no fun,” he said once America had removed her hand. “T’would have been delicious.”

“Like an ice cream city?” America muttered into his ear.

If he was in the mood to glare, he would, but he was just grateful she hadn’t said it loud enough for Thor to hear. That had been his old self’s doing anyway. Instead he pinched her lightly on the arm as a warning.

“Let us focus on getting back home,” said Thor.

“Yeah, that alley should do,” said America, gesturing across the street. “Pick up your feet, chico.”

Loki obliged by grabbing her opposite shoulder and jumping up into her arms. America grunted but caught him and managed to carry his weight.

“What are you doing?” snapped America. “Isn’t the groom supposed to carry the bride?”

“I’m too heavy for Verity to carry,” he said, “and far too intoxicated to attempt to carry her.”

“I could kick a portal into the ground and drop you into it,” America threatened, “and you’d have to wait until you’re sober to teleport yourself back.”

“Ah, but you won’t,” said Loki, waving a knowing finger, “because I, as you say, just got hitched.”

America grumbled under her breath, but she didn’t drop him and kept walking. He was glad for it because the ground was cold and he didn’t relish the thought of being dropped on his ass on the icy sidewalk, and he wasn’t at all certain that he could support his own weight. Much better to rely on the sober people for that.

After they had gone to City Hall, filed the proper paperwork, and swore their vows before a New York City judge, the four of them went out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. The drinks turned into more drinks, and then Thor kept buying Loki shots, which America refused to help him with (something about “underage drinking” and “no way am I getting inebriated with you, chico,” and “someone has to stop you from doing whatever comes into that fool head of yours”). So this was really all America’s fault.

Loki glanced back at Verity. She was wearing a long black pea coat over her white dress, which she looked amazing in. He was happy she agreed to wear it and the heels in the end. He had been prepared to offer to also wear a dress to convince her (it wouldn’t have been a problem; same-sex marriage was legal in New York now, wasn’t it? Midgardians and their strange laws…), but that turned out to be unnecessary because Verity didn’t even argue after the first night. Perhaps his clever tongue had convinced her.

As he looked at her, he felt warmth spread through his insides again. Wonderful, true Verity. It was a pleasant surprise that he had not fucked up with her yet. Not irreversibly so. In spite of his mistakes, she let him hang around, and not even begrudgingly like many of his villainous acquaintances or all of the Aesir. Hell, she even invited him over regularly. Like she _wanted_ him around.

When had anyone ever _wanted_ him around? When had anyone not simply tolerated his existence? Or the necessity of his existence anyway. Even the Young Avengers only kept him around to help Billy hone his magic, or simply to keep an eye on Loki. Keep your friends close and your enemies in a headlock, as they say.

But Verity was a friend, and a truer friend than any he’d had before. As far as he knew, she had no other motives to keep him around other than that she liked him. As a friend at least. He would hold onto no delusions that she might love him. No one loved Loki. Even Thor only loved the shadow of a child long dead. He didn’t—and wouldn’t—love Loki.

That was okay. He didn’t need anyone to. He only needed Verity and her realness and her cold warmth and her ability to believe him because he was actually telling the truth. No judgment, no prejudice, just belief in him. Because even though he couldn’t be trusted, even if he used her, she still believed in him.

She looked up and caught him watching her, and for a second shock crossed her face, caused by what, he couldn’t imagine. Then she smiled. Loki gave her a thumbs up and Verity shook her head, still smiling widely, as though she was fighting a grin.

“What’re you giggling about?” muttered America.

Loki turned his head back to the front. “I can’t believe she married me.”

“Me neither. Hanging out with you must kill brain cells.”

Loki scowled. “Verity has more brain cells than could possibly be killed off to make her _stupid_ , if that’s what you’re implying.”

America raised an eyebrow at him. “All right, sorry. Sheesh. I know she’s smart. So you’d better not hurt her,” she added with a glare, “or I’ll kick your ass so hard, they’ll have to surgically remove my boot. She’s a good person.”

Loki nodded. “And I’m a terrible person, I know. I do not intend to harm her. I learned from my time with you Young Avengers.”

America was silent for a while as they crossed the street. “And what exactly did you learn?” she asked quietly.

“Not to use perfectly nice people to less-than-noble ends,” he said, just as quietly. “It’s not worth it.”

America snorted and smirked. “Well, if you keep up the good behavior, we might just lift the restraining order.”

There was no restraining order, and if there was, Loki had implemented it himself. He was staying away from them. He wasn’t so sure that they _should_ let him back into the fold, but he hesitated to say so (which was probably why they shouldn’t), and then the moment passed and America stepped into the alley.

“All right, chico, you’re heavy as fuck,” said America in a normal tone. “Get off.”

He loosened his grip on her to signal that she could let go, and she dropped his legs and helped him regain his feet.

“Thanks, ‘Murrica,” he said, keeping one hand on her shoulder for balance.

“I’ve told you—don’t slur my name like that.”

Loki just grinned at her and squeezed her shoulder. America frowned and then, after a moment, rolled her eyes.

“You just can’t, even for one second…” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Well, brother,” said Thor, stepping up to them with Verity still on his arm, “I should be going.”

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” asked Loki, gesturing with a thumb to America, who crossed her arms and huffed.

“Nay, I can find my own way back,” said Thor, patting Mjolnir, which was hanging at his hip. It served as his identification much of the time, because Thor couldn’t be bothered to carry a passport.

“Don’t break anything,” said Loki. Thor was slightly less drunk than he was, but still very intoxicated. Loki would be annoyed that Thor could match him drink for drink and still be better off, but this body’s tolerance was much lower than Loki was accustomed to, so it couldn’t be helped. As it was, Thor swayed on his feet and had been red-faced and overly affectionate all night.

“I might say the same to you,” Thor replied with a smirk. He unhooked his arm from Verity’s and took her hands. “Good night, Lady Verity. And congratulations.”

“Thanks,” said Verity, smiling at him. Thor patted her hands and turned to America to bid her good night as well.

Loki sidled up next to Verity and snaked an arm around her waist. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Maybe a little too much,” she said, leaning into him.

“And yet there is more fun to be had.” He reached over and took her hand, swaying them in place slightly. Verity was not expecting it, and her foot slipped on the icy concrete, but before she could fall, Loki moved his foot forward to catch her weight. The movement felt a bit like a dance, so he went with it and pulled Verity closer. They swayed in a circle, slowly, clinging to each other for balance in the dark alleyway.

“Thanks,” whispered Verity, “for bringing me along for the ride.”

“I should thank _you_ ,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side.”

“All right, you two, break it up,” called America. “I don’t have all night.”

Loki was a little annoyed at the interruption, so he continued to hum in Verity’s ear and did one more rotation before turning to America and Thor. America was glaring impatiently with her arms crossed, and Thor stood next to her in a complete juxtaposition of mood, with an openly delighted grin on his face.

Once she had their attention, America turned and punched a portal into a brick wall. It glowed bright blue in the dark alley, and she gestured to it with one hand.

“In ya go, love birds,” she said.

“Ah, our chariot awaits,” Loki whispered to Verity, and she snorted out a laugh.

Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder one last time as he dance-walked Verity to the portal, and then he enveloped them both in a mighty Thor Hug™. Verity grunted quietly in protest, but Thor released them soon enough and bid them a good night once more before launching himself away with Mjolnir.

“Well, it’s been real,” said America.

“We appreciate your assistance,” Loki told her.

America shrugged and then turned to Verity. “Let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

“Oh, constantly,” said Verity.

“Hey!”

America smirked and exchanged a glance with Loki. He grinned and saluted.

“Adios,” he said, stepping through the portal, one arm firmly around Verity’s waist.

America’s smirk was evident in her parting words: “Te veo.”

Loki pulled Verity through the portal and they stumbled into his apartment. It was all Loki could do to keep them from falling, but he still hit his shin on his coffee table. He cursed and Verity quickly stifled a laugh with her hand. She untangled herself from him and sat down on the offending coffee table, which halted Loki’s thoughts of setting it on fire and cursing its related wooden brethren to disintegrate immediately. Instead, he lowered himself beside her and loosened his tie, sighing.

“We’ll have to send them gift baskets,” he said, pulling at the knot. It didn’t seem to want to come undone, and his fingers were numb and fumbling.

“America, especially,” agreed Verity, and after divesting herself of her coat, she brushed his hands away and undid the knot. She’d tied it for him, too, because in the past he’d just used magic or illusions for complicated Midgardian formal wear, but he couldn’t pass like that with Verity. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tied a tie himself, and when he tried earlier that day, Verity had stepped in before he could get frustrated.

“I hope she enjoyed herself, despite the lack of liquid pleasure,” said Loki. “I’m really going to have to figure this out for myself one day,” he added, slipping the tie off and laying it aside on the coffee table.

“How often do you really wear ties?” She bent over to pull off her white heels, exposing the gentle, pale slope of her shoulders. Loki felt himself falling sideways toward her, but he was too heavy from drink to stop himself, so he moved his arm to drape himself over Verity’s back. She let out a soft whine of protest and Loki kissed the nape of her neck to silence her. She was warm and soft and undeniably Verity. She had married him and then smiled all evening. He felt he could stay like this forever, just touching Verity and telling stories to her and feeling warm but not burning. She kept him from burning. Cold and practical, warm and caring Verity. The perfect temperature to keep Loki stable. _Just right_.

“Loki, I’m going to fall asleep like this,” murmured Verity. Loki opened his eyes and realized he had been running his hands gently up and down her arms and through her hair. He slowed his ministrations but couldn’t make himself stop touching her. Warm, cool Verity.

Verity shifted underneath him. “Loki, you’re heavy…”

Loki groaned and rolled off her, losing his seat and tumbling with a thump onto the floor.

“Drama queen,” said Verity, standing up. Loki cracked an eye open to watch her walk toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her skirt swaying as though in a breeze. _Norns_ , he had great taste in dresses.

“I have this wine from Alfheim in the cupboard…”

“I was thinking more along the lines of _water_.”

“Phht. Water.”

When Verity didn’t reply to his derision, Loki opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling for a moment, considering putting something up there, like a serpent or something, because ceilings were boring as hell. Then he forcibly pushed himself up and managed to stand and stumble to the couch. When Verity returned with two glasses of water, like the wonderful, practical woman she was, Loki was sprawled out on half the couch. She sat down on the remaining portion and handed him a glass of water, but he set it aside on the lamp table behind him and beckoned to her with a hand.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Verity sipped her water and gave him a look over her glasses, but she crawled across the couch anyway and reached over him to set her glass down, too. Loki reached up to place his hand on her arm to keep her there above him, resting his other hand on her hip, and she leaned down to kiss him. He pulled their bodies closer, wanting to feel more of her. She was his. His wife, his friend, his confidant, his truth. His and his alone.

“You know,” breathed Verity, pausing and tilting her head to kiss the corner of his mouth, “it’s not very fun to kiss your teeth. What are you grinning about?”

“Just thinking about how lucky you are,” he said, lifting his chin. Verity took the hint and moved down his jaw. “Married to a god, and all. Not many mortals can boast that.”

Verity snorted softly and the short breath brushed the skin behind Loki’s ear. “Oh yeah?” she said.

“Oh yes. Quite a rare occurrence. You should feel honored.” He slipped his hands down her thighs and back up again, pulling her skirt up.

“Is that so?” She shifted over him and he gripped her hips and bucked his own gently.

“So, do you?”

Verity laughed into his collar. “Mm-hmm,” she hummed, and then: “And you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Loki, and he sat up and caught her mouth again, and that was the end of conversation for a while.

* * *

 

Loki woke with a flinch, though what against he wasn’t sure. He didn’t open his eyes, still too heavy with sleep to attempt it, but he felt Verity’s arms wrapped tightly around him. At some point they had migrated to his bed, though he couldn’t exactly remember when. He grinned, thinking back on it, and had nearly fallen back to sleep with these warm thoughts when something dropped onto his face and he flinched again.

This time, he did open his eyes and inhaled sharply when he saw that he wasn’t in his bedroom wrapped in Verity’s embrace at all.

He was lying amongst the roots of a great gnarled tree, bound to a thick root with seidr-infused rope that burned—it _burned_ —and above him, coiled around the trunk of the tree, was an open-mouthed serpent.

_No, it can’t be—_

A drop fell from the serpent’s fangs and Loki hissed as it hit his forehead and slipped down his nose into the corner of his eye, burning a thin path across his skin. It felt like fire and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The venom burned through his skin, his skill, setting his every nerve aflame. He heard the grinding of his own teeth and the groan of the ropes binding him as he strained against them. He thought he might go mad with the pain, but then it slowly began to recede. Instead of burning, there was numbness, and then only a faint sensation of raw, scarred nerves, like the awareness of a scab after the pain of a wound had subsided.

A whine of relief escaped Loki’s lips and he blinked open his watery eyes and began to look frantically around the tree.

“Help,” he said, his voice hoarse and his throat sore, and he had only a moment to wonder if he had been screaming through his teeth when another drop fell and the burning, unbearable pain started again.

“Hush, Loki,” said a soft voice, and it seemed to Loki that the sweetness of it helped to dull the pain. When he could open his eyes again, he had to blink away the tears to see the figure above him more clearly. It was a woman, and she was holding a small bowl over his head, below the serpent’s fangs. She wore a scarf around her head, shadowing her face.

“Who?” he tried to ask, but only a pained whine came out.

The woman slowly moved her head and looked down at him. For a moment the face under the hood flickered and then Verity smiled down at him.

“Hush, my Loki, my husband,” she said, but her words were out of sync with her lips, and Loki thought, _No, this is the wrong one_.

“I will take care of you,” said the woman with Verity’s face. “I will always take care of you.” Still holding the bowl aloft, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “For eternity.”

“No—”

Loki gasped and awoke with a start, his eyes wide open. He was back in his darkened bedroom, Verity’s head resting next to his, her arm very loosely draped over his stomach. He glanced around the room, just to be sure, but there was nothing. No tree, no serpent, no strange wife…

He had the oddest feeling that he was forgetting something, something important, and he lay awake for a long time trying to remember before falling back into a restless sleep.


	5. The Honeymoon Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Verity and America arrive at Loki’s apartment to find him doing something he really ought not to be doing. But at least he isn’t playing video games in his underwear. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but it's not getting any better and it's about time to update this.

“So how’s married life?”

Verity wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh, because it seemed like a silly question, so she settled on smile and a shrug. “Not all that different, actually.”

America raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of steak. “Yeah?”

Verity pursed her lips thoughtfully and after a moment, shrugged again. “It’s only been a week,” she said. “How much could change? I guess the sex is more frequent,” she added, because it was really the only thing that had changed since the wedding dress incident.

America snorted violently and coughed, and Verity looked up from her spaghetti and blinked. America set down her soda, coughing once more, and stared at her.

Verity couldn’t suppress a smirk. “What?”

“Oh no,” said America, glaring and pointing at her. “Don’t give me that look. That’s chico’s look. Let’s file that under Things I Don’t Need to Know.” She punctuated this by stabbing her fork into her steak.

“I thought you knew,” said Verity, turning her attention back to her spaghetti and trying to bite back a smile. “We’re both consenting adults, after all.”

“Yeah,” said America, “except there’s a difference between knowing and _knowing_. Maybe don’t mention it to Billy if you ever meet him.”

Verity shook her head. “We’re married now, you know.”

“Oh yeah,” said America, grinning around her fork. “How could I forget? He only mentions it in every damn text now. Tell him to quit it, will ya?”

America had shown Verity some of Loki’s text history in her phone earlier, and over the last week, he had indeed made references to his marital status consistently, in the vein of “Hey America, it’s Loki, spouse of Verity, I need a favor” and “I can’t today, I’m already engaged with my wife” and “No, I didn’t do it, I was too busy being married to Verity” and “As a recently married man, I can’t approve of those shorts paired with that top.”

Another thing that had changed, though, was that she saw America more often, especially since that first lunch where they sat down and went over Verity’s terms. It was nice to have another friend who never bull shitted her. Not even because America knew about her power, but because that’s just how America was.

They had run into each other today by chance while Verity was shopping, and since the timing was right, they found a diner and sat down for lunch. It was nice, falling so easily into a friendship like this. How had her life become so… satisfying? Especially after meeting someone like Loki, who by many accounts was a villain and by all accounts was a _liar_.

“How is this my life?” said Verity, swirling her fork around absently.

“Don’t ask me, _you’re_ the one who said ‘I do.’” America took a loud sip of her soda and sighed. “So is chico all domestic now, or what?”

Verity smiled. “Oh yeah, all the cooking and laundry. That Kneel to the Chef apron is adorable.” America laughed and Verity shrugged. “He’s always made me dinner, although that’s mostly because he always begs favors with offers of dinner…”

“Uh-oh, you aren’t aiding in heists, are you?” teased America, though Verity could sense some rising disapproval in her tone.

“It wasn’t a heist,” said Verity automatically. He hadn’t lied about _that_. “But I figure one near heart attack is equal to twelve dinners. The price of subsequent heart attacks increases exponentially by 4.5 dinners.”

America threw her head back and laughed. “Well, he cooks, does his husbandly duty—hey, you brought it up first,” said America, jabbing her fork in Verity’s direction when Verity opened her mouth to protest. “What else?”

“If you’re so curious, come over,” said Verity.

America tapped her chin and hummed thoughtfully, and then she grinned. “Why not?”

And so, Verity led the way to Loki’s apartment in Manhattan. Though she kept her old apartment for herself, Loki put her name on his lease and gave her a key to his apartment, “for appearance’s sake, at least,” he had said once, since under marriage law they had to live together to grant him citizenship, “though I certainly wouldn’t mind if you dropped in and, you know, _lived_ here.”

It was quite possible that Loki would not be home, because he had told her that morning before she left that he was going on a short quest, but for Loki, “short” often meant “week-long.” She hated the idea of disappointing America, but it was worth a shot. He seemed to enjoy shouting “Honey, I’m home!” as loudly as he could whenever he walked in the door. He always ducked the book she threw at his head with a grin. So recently he never went so far away that he couldn’t come back and perform _that_ nonsense every day.

Verity unlocked the door and opened it, and she did not immediately recognize any sign that he was home. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door, and America followed her in.

“Hey, chico, you home?” called America.

A muted thump from the kitchen made Verity start.

“Loki?” she called, crossing to the open door, and when she reached the kitchen, she stopped short.

Loki looked up at her from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights expression that told her immediately that he got caught doing something he was not supposed to be doing. He was sitting in the center of a circle of Dijon mustard painted on the linoleum, holding a bowl of dry Lucky Charms cereal. The plastic bottle of mustard was rolling on its side, evidently the source of the thump.

“Uhh,” said Loki.

“What are you doing?” asked Verity. This looked like madness, even for Loki. “Why is there Dijon mustard on the floor?”

“It’s expired,” he offered.

America stepped up next to Verity and took in the circle, and then she crossed her arms. “What are you summoning, chico?” she demanded.

“ _Summoning?_ ” said Verity, turning to America in disbelief, but America’s glare was firmly fixed on Loki. When Verity turned back around, Loki was fixing his own displeased glower on America, but it disappeared when he noticed Verity watching.

“What are you summoning?” Verity demanded, too.

Loki pressed his lips together and looked like he was considering just not answering, so Verity doubled up on her glaring game.

He relented. “Uhh,” he said again, his eyes flicking around the room. “A Helhound?”

Verity’s jaw dropped open.

“ _Why_ are you summoning a hellhound?” said America, uncrossing her arms only to crack her knuckles.

“No, no, I—” Loki raised his hands to wave them in the air defensively, and when some cereal flew out of his bowl, he froze. “It’s not—It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” said America with an impatient anger that made _Verity’s_ skin break out in goose bumps.

Loki sighed. “Okay, look. I’m summoning a Helhound,” he explained, “because I don’t like them.”

Verity and America stared at him, and when no further explanation was forthcoming, Verity clenched her fists.

“Okay,” she said, “there is some Loki-logic in there that I’m unfamiliar with. _Why_ would you summon something you don’t even like? In _our apartment, no less_?”

“Because—I—it’s—” Loki let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his face with one hand. “I don’t like Helhounds. Bad history with badder blood. So it stands to reason that _future_ me hates them, too. I was going to bind one to the apartment to guard against malicious presences and to scare off… me. Like, beware of magic dog!”

“Future you?” said America, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t want a hellhound hanging around the apartment!” said Verity, throwing up her hands. “Whatever a hellhound even is.”

“You shouldn’t make such hasty judgments,” said Loki. “You don’t _know_ you wouldn’t like them.”

“You’re one to talk! You already said you _don’t_!”

“It wouldn’t be around all the time,” he said in a placating tone, but Verity didn’t much feel like being placated. “It would only appear to protect the apartment if an unwanted being entered.”

“Like future you,” said America.

Loki nodded once. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” said America, putting her hands on her hips, “wanna explain what the hell _that_ means?”

“I don’t want a hellhound guarding the apartment,” said Verity, crossing her arms.

“Come on,” said Loki. “You won’t even notice.”

“What about my apartment?” she asked, suddenly worried that he had summoned something there, too.

Loki had the grace to look sheepish. “I was going to do yours next. I had to make sure it worked first.”

Verity widened her eyes and stared at him.

“Come on, Verity,” he said again, and this time he had the _nerve_ to sound exasperated.

Verity turned on her heel. “I can’t deal with this level of crazy right now. Clean this up.”

“Fine. I’m more of a cat person, too, anyway,” he muttered.

Verity stomped back into the living room. Really? _Really?_ Summoning something in their apartment? And something with “hell” in its name, no less, which did _not_ sound good, much less _safe._ What if something went wrong? And what was with the mustard?

“Well, _that_ was interesting,” said America from behind her. “So _this_ is the domestic life of Loki and Verity. They should make a sitcom.”

Verity groaned. “Him and his damned magic, sometimes, I swear...”

“I have some bad news for you, babe: You kinda married a magician.”

“Sorcerer!” called Loki from the kitchen, and Verity shot a glare he couldn’t see in his direction. Magic was tricky for Verity. It wasn’t a _lie_ , but it also _was_. Truth be told—and it couldn’t _not_ be told with Verity—she was still trying to figure out what to think of it. Regardless, she knew, from the stories he told her, magic could be _dangerous_. Especially for him. _Especially_ when summoning things from _hell_.

Verity sighed and sat down on the couch, her head in her hands. America sat next to her and tentatively rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna go?” whispered America.

“No. I have to deal with this.” She ran a hand through her hair. “You can go if you want.”

“Nah, I’ll stay. Knock some sense into him if you want.” America curled her hand into a fist and punched her other palm. “Fair warning, though: the wall might have _him_ knocked into it.”

Verity laughed and straightened up just in time to see Loki exiting the kitchen. He stopped just inside the living room and crossed his arms, pouting petulantly. Verity gave him an annoyed eye roll.

“I was only doing it to protect _you_ , you know,” he said at last.

“It just creeps me out,” Verity told him. “Were you even going to tell me about our new attack dog?”

Loki scratched a spot under his ear and avoided her eyes. “I was going to say it was another ward…” he muttered.

“Knowing I wouldn’t believe that,” said Verity, irritation making her voice sharp.

Loki groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“Your plans suck, chico,” said America.

He chuckled behind his hand. “Yeah. They always have.”

Verity frowned because that was only a half-truth and now she was curious _why_.

“I’m sorry,” said Loki. “I just don’t want…”

Verity sighed again. “You already have wards up. We’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said, as though that made it better.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” said Verity, leaning down to her shopping bags that she had dropped at her feet. “I got something for you.” She pulled out the box and, still a little annoyed with him, didn’t bother getting up. She threw it at him and he caught it, frowning.

“Really?” he asked, using a black fingernail to break the tape on the box seam.

“It’s sort of our one week anniversary, and I realized you got me a ring, but I never got you anything.”

“I don’t need anything, I got you,” he said with a grin, but he opened the box anyway and paused to stare at the vine-patterned gold bracelet inside.

“I didn’t figure you wear rings, with the gloves and all,” Verity explained. She twisted the ring on her left hand nervously, suddenly wondering if this was silly. “And it doesn’t have an enchantment.”

Loki beamed at her. “It’s great, Verity. Thank you,” he said, slipping it onto his wrist.

She offered a nervous smile. “Uh, happy anniversary.”

He grinned and strode forward, leaning down to kiss her. She met him halfway, rising from the couch, and they stayed that way for a moment. A loud, mechanical click made them break apart, and Verity turned to America, who was leaning back with her phone up.

“Don’t mind me,” said America, eyes on her phone screen.

“Sorry,” said Verity, her face growing hot.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said America, typing something quickly and then slipping her phone into her pocket. “Billy and Teddy are way worse than you guys.”

“How rude of us,” purred Loki, a corner of his lips curling up. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

Verity grabbed his face to push him away and sat down again. Loki just laughed, and then turned and fell into the couch between them. He crossed his legs and turned to America.

“What brings you to this side of the tracks?”

“Got a couple questions for you.”

“Uh-huh.” Loki jiggled his foot and glanced around the apartment. “Well, then, it’s been great, America—”

“Chill, kid,” America snapped, and Loki’s foot stopped. “Verity invited me over. I wanted to witness your married life.”

“Oh.” Loki smiled easily in relief. “Well, I guess we gave you quite a typical scene, didn’t we, Verity?”

Verity laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, because I always come home to find you smearing food on _something_.”

“I assure you, the ceiling pizza was a most unfortunate accident.”

“Why Dijon mustard?” asked America, tilting her head.

“Hel beasts prefer a little spice in their summoning rituals,” Loki explained. “That, or blood-colored, and it seemed such a terrible waste of ketchup…”

“And the Lucky Charms?” asked Verity.

Loki shot her a grin. “They’re magically delicious.”

Verity rolled her eyes, but she supposed she had to be grateful that he hadn’t been playing video games in his underwear. Again.

“So,” said Loki, slapping his thighs with both hands, “will Miss America be staying for dinner, then?”

America raised an eyebrow and Verity sighed. “We just had lunch. You’re thinking about dinner already?”

Loki stared at her blankly for a moment. “What time is it?”

“Like two,” said America, jutting a thumb at the window, through which they could clearly see the afternoon sunlight.

“I see…” He looked somewhat disturbed by this information. Verity and America stared at him, and he shifted a little on the couch.

“Where the _hell_ did you _go_ this morning?” Verity asked, a little concerned, but mostly confused.

“Right. That’s—” he said, a little distractedly. Verity exchanged a glance with America, who also looked concerned, and then Loki sat up straight with a brilliant smile. “Ah, I remember now,” he said cheerfully, and stood up. “I forgot my cereal in the kitchen.”

He swept away from them and into the kitchen again. America raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Verity, and Verity just shook her head. Loki clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and she knew from experience that pressing him would only release a string of extravagant lies. If it was important, Verity would find out soon enough. If not, well, Loki did his own thing, and sometimes she just had to let it go. He would drive her crazy if she didn’t.

Loki reemerged from the kitchen with the bowl in hand. “So,” he said, throwing a few marshmallows into his mouth, “video games?”

 

* * *

 

America did stay for dinner—enchiladas, and Loki swore to America it was just a coincidence—and then they sat around for a long time, talking and reminiscing and catching up. Loki told them both stories animatedly, and sometimes they were true and sometimes he lied or embellished, but Verity didn’t bother to correct his stories. Tonight, they weren’t for her anyway. America laughed and threw swings at him in all the right places, and Loki lit up under her attention. Verity couldn’t bring herself to break his mood with contrary interruptions, unless he glanced at her, a clear invitation for her to challenge him and set the record straight.

Sometimes she didn’t have to, because America knew outrageous lies when she heard them. She was hardly gullible, and Loki knew it. It was fun to watch the two of them exchange challenges and quips, and eventually Verity just sat back and observed.

She had walked in on them hanging out before. The first time, they were arguing in his apartment about something—she only caught the tail end of the disagreement—and America punched him through his bedroom door. (Which was miraculously repaired by the next day.) The second time, Verity had frozen in the doorway, dumbfounded, as they shared a quart of ice cream and played video games peacefully. Their friendship was a strange one.

They were rotating through rounds of Street Fighter when America broached a sensitive topic that Verity thought she had forgotten.

“So,” said America while swiftly smashing Verity’s busty character to the floor, “are you ever going to explain about this future self you’re trying to protect Verity from?”

“Right now, I’m more concerned with protecting her from _you_ ,” said Loki. “Verity, _block_. She’s killing you.”

“I don’t know _how_ ,” snapped Verity.

“Move in the opposite direction!”

“Okay, I’ll do that once I’m not _paralyzed by the barrage of kicks coming at me!_ ”

“Oh, for Frigg’s sake—” he said, reaching over her shoulder to grab her controller.

It was too late; America’s character reared back for a final, slow-motion punch, and Verity was out. She dropped the controller in disgust and sat back.

“It’s all your backseat playing,” she snarled, and Loki scoffed, readying a retort.

“You know I’m not going to let this go, right?” said America. She crossed her arms, the controller hanging from her hand. Verity glanced at Loki, who was picking at the black polish on his nails. They didn’t talk about it a lot. Not much at all, after the first time.

“There’s been a, ah, complication with the All-Mother,” Loki said at last. “Somehow a Loki has made his way into her good graces. And it’s not the loveable rogue currently in your presence. He seems to be from a future, and he’s not exactly a friendly.”

He didn’t look at America at all as he said this, still picking absently at his nails. America looked at Verity for confirmation, and Verity nodded. A vague explanation, but true.

“What future?” asked America slowly.

Loki shrugged.

America sat back and thought for a moment. “He bothering you?”

“Just taunts so far. Probably—what am I saying? _Most definitely_ —some manipulation.”

“Could it be a trick?”

“I’m almost certain it is.”

“End game?”

Loki said nothing and Verity reached behind her to squeeze his knee. He smiled weakly.

America sniffed. “Let us know if you need help.”

“Thanks.”

“Now get down here so I can kick your ass,” she said, smirking at him.

Loki huffed and traded places with Verity, sitting on the floor in front of her.

Loki and America were evenly matched, as far as video games went. Loki won on the first round, though, and while he was gloating, America slid up onto the couch next to Verity.

“Wanna help me out?” she whispered.

Verity nodded. “I’ve got your back.”

“Get _his_ back.”

The second round began, and Verity leaned forward and placed her hands on Loki’s tense shoulders. He didn’t react, besides an involuntary twitch at the sudden contact, so Verity took that as her cue to continue. She rubbed his shoulders slowly, almost absently.

Loki didn’t say anything to her, but he did keep up the banter with America. “There you go again, relying on brawn,” he said. “You can’t just button mash your way through life, Chavez.”

“You’re just mad I punched you right in the face,” said America. Her eyes were completely focused on the screen. She had Loki both had terrible cases of intense gamer face, but Verity supposed that was just the result of their abilities to concentrate well, to block out everything else and focus on their one goal.

Of course, she was about to test that theory.

Loki groaned as Verity dug her thumbs into the back of his neck. She started slowly but began to apply more pressure, and he slowly relaxed under her touch. She made circles across his shoulders with her thumbs, watching the TV screen to see if it was working. So far, he didn’t show any signs of breaking.

“Verity,” he moaned as she moved her hands further down his back, “what are you doing?”

“Distracting you.” There was no point in hiding it.

“Stop. It’s… distracting.”

Oh, she had him now.

“Block, chico,” warned America with a smirk.

“I’m trying,” he whined, half-heartedly trying to squirm out of Verity’s hands while also jumping his character around the screen in an attempt to avoid America’s attacks, but the further he moved away, the more he exposed of his back. Verity pressed tight circles along his spine until America kicked one last time and knocked him out. America let out a whoop of victory and high-fived Verity, and Loki moaned and leaned forward until his head was touching the floor. Verity felt a little guilty about the trick—only a little, though—so she worked at his lower back for a while as he mourned his loss and America gloated, throwing his words back at him.

“See, Loki, this is what happens when you put all your energy into building strength and bulk and neglect speed and dexterity,” said America. “Balance, my friend, is key, and you with all your strength can never overcome my superior intellect and nimble fingers.”

“Shut up,” Loki muttered into the floor. Verity laughed and smacked his back to signal that she was done, and he fell to the side and rolled away from her onto his back. “Traitor,” he said, pointing a finger at her, but it was without malice. He was limp and lazy from the massage.

“Someone had to knock you down a peg,” said Verity. “If your ego gets any bigger, your crown won’t fit on your head.”

“I always knew you’d betray me. It was only a matter of time.”

Verity was shocked by how much that hurt. It was like he had punched her in the gut. She quickly fixed a smile on her face just as he lifted his head, but she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so she turned to America.

“Congratulations on your victory,” she said, holding out her hand.

America took it and shook. “I couldn’t have done it without your help,” she said cordially, ignoring Loki’s indignant cry of “Cheaters!” Then she stood up on the couch and raised her controller like a trophy. “I’m not usually one for speeches,” said America, “but—”

“Sit the fuck down!” shouted Loki, throwing a pillow at her. America deftly blocked the projectile and laughed.

“Sorry, chico,” said America. “Tie-breaker?”

“When I win, I’m going to sew a C for Cheater on all of your clothes.”

They played one more round, and Loki managed to beat America, which seemed to appease him. He preened again, and America rolled her eyes and gracefully accepted defeat, though Verity could tell she was a little annoyed.

“It’s late anyway,” said America. “I gotta bounce.”

“Or you could stay,” Loki suggested with a lecherous grin. Verity thumped him on the back.

“Might wanna check with your partner first,” said America. “And besides, you’re like twelve.”

“For the record, I was closer to fourteen, and anyway, now—”

America threw up her hands and turned to the door. “Whatever!”

While Loki undid all the locks, America bid Verity good night with a hug.

“This was fun,” said America. “Call me any time he’s acting up. Or any other time.”

“Thanks, America,” said Verity, smiling.

“And you,” said America, turning around to wave her finger under Loki’s nose, “ _you_ stay out of trouble. No hellhounds.”

Loki saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

America clapped a hand on his shoulder and they smirked at each other for a long time before America finally turned and walked out of the apartment. Loki closed the door and hesitated before turning back to Verity.

“Hey, erm,” he began uncertainly, not meeting her eyes.

“I married you, you know,” Verity broke in when he was too slow to continue. He looked up, his brow creased, and took a breath as though to reply, but he released it again without saying anything.

“You’ve said it yourself,” she continued, since apparently he didn’t get it. He _still_ didn’t get it. “It’s dangerous to be your friend. But I married you. I trusted you enough—And don’t you dare say I shouldn’t,” she snapped when he looked ready to interrupt. “I know, okay. But I married you anyway, and do you know how much trust _that_ took? I’m trusting you with my _life_ here, Loki, and you—” Verity cut herself off with an irritated sigh. “You think I’m going to betray you. I’m your _friend_ , Loki. I would _never_ do anything to hurt you. Ever.”

Loki didn’t say anything for a long time, but she waited. He shifted and fidgeted before her, and she wondered if she had just rendered him speechless and if she deserved a medal for that and what exactly was so difficult for him to say.

“Verity,” he said at last, quietly, “it’s not… It’s not in my nature to _trust_. You don’t know what happens when Loki _trusts_. I can’t… I can’t…”

“It’s just shitty,” said Verity, her voice rising as she continued, “It’s just _shitty_ that you say you’ll take care of me, but you won’t trust me to do the same. We’re _friends_. Friends _take care of each other._ ”

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and Verity clenched her fists, trying to calm herself down with deep breaths. She knew he had secrets, and he had the right to keep those secrets, but it _hurt_ , it _hurt_ to know that _he_ didn’t trust _her_ , even though she had given him so much, risked _so much_ , never given him any reason whatsoever to doubt her…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just… hard. I worry about the future—”

“Fuck the future,” Verity spat, and Loki flinched. “And fuck future you. I don’t believe in that. I don’t care what he told you, your future is your own. It’s up to _you._ ”

Loki gave her a pitiful smile, one that told her he clearly thought she was wrong and didn’t know what she was talking about. Him and his goddamned fairy tales…

Verity sighed. “Can you at least try? Try to… trust me?”

Loki looked down at his feet, looking absolutely miserable. He fidgeted for a while longer and then sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll try.”

Verity watched him for a few seconds. “Okay,” she said. It was the best she was going to get out of him. She really wasn’t asking for much, she thought, but this seemed difficult for him. She could settle for trying.

He finally met her eyes again, looking a little surprised, but that faded away quickly and he nodded.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“You know,” said Verity hesitantly. She bit her lip, debating. “You know… I think if Thor knew the truth, he wouldn’t hate you.” He frowned at her, puzzled and a little frightened, but she went on before he could stop her. “He might be mad, but… I think he would just be disappointed that you don’t trust him to love you.”

Loki looked away, a dark look clouding his face. “He won’t,” he said bitterly.

Verity shrugged. “That’s just what I think.” She paused. “I’m going to head home.”

He looked up, the darkness gone, and smiled imploringly. “You should stay.”

Verity shook her head. “You’re stressing me out today. But I’ll swing by tomorrow after work,” she added when his face fell. She tried to ignore how vulnerable and disappointed he looked. She needed some space right now. “I promise.”

He looked down again, defeated. “Okay.”

Verity grabbed her purse from the corner near the kitchen and came back to the door where Loki was still standing, lonely and forlorn.

“Good night,” she said, pecking him on the cheek, just so he knew that they were okay, she just wanted to go home and be by herself. It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t leave him alone, that maybe _he_ didn’t want to be by himself, but she had made her choice and her promise, and he could take care of himself.

“I could teleport you home,” he offered. “It’s late.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get a cab at the station.”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment, and she thought he was about to insist on taking her home. “Good night.”

Verity smiled weakly and left. He could manage without her for a night. He had some thinking to do anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard. Ughhhh...
> 
> Also the next chapter is ridiculously long--like three times as long as this one--and I don't know what to do with it. Would it be weird to post a really long chapter right after a really short one? Irregular chapter lengths are normal... right? Heh heh...


	6. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki is terrible at interpersonal social interaction. Good god, man, get it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardness and trauma ahead. No one wants to lose the things they treasure.

_There will be time, there will be time_

_To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;_

_There will be time to murder and create,_

_And time for all the works and days of hands_

_That lift and drop a question on your plate;_

_Time for you and time for me,_

_And time yet for a hundred indecisions,_

_And for a hundred visions and revisions,_

_Before the taking of a toast and tea._

(The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock)

 

Loki fell onto the roof of his apartment building, laughing. The cold air hurt his lungs, but the rest of him was warm enough that he could ignore it.

“Graceful as always,” said Lorelei, standing over him with an amused smirk. He just giggled up at her, and she smiled and offered him her hand. He reached up, but instead of letting her help him to his feet, Loki yanked on her hand, because this was _fun_ , and she slipped on the icy roof and fell on top of him with a soft “ _Oof!_ ” and then he was laughing again. Lorelei joined in and her laughter rang in his ears.

“You were fantastic tonight,” she said when the giggle fit had subsided. “Top form.”

Loki snorted. “You say that like you think I’ve gotten rusty.”

It hadn’t been a difficult trick to pull off. He and Lorelei had snuck themselves into the art gallery Christmas party in Paris as a wealthy couple, sliding amongst the Parisian partygoers easily. The target was a priceless artifact dug up from an old church dedicated to Balder, though of course the mortals didn’t know that. They just thought it was a local patron saint.

The artifact was a small, carved jewelry box with mirrored insides. Lorelei wanted it for some magical properties the mirrors reportedly had; word had it, they could store things in a pocket space. Perfect, in other words, for storing stolen jewelry or other small trinkets to hide from prying eyes. Which was another goal of the night.

They had wandered through the crowd, Loki picking pockets and performing cheap sleight of hand for groups of wealthy socialites while performing more _subtle_ sleight of hand on their wrists and ears, and Lorelei enchanting men into giving up their watches and wallets. Then, when they had played long enough, they used Lorelei’s glass cutter to cut the box out of its case. And, just for kicks and because it _was_ a nice party, they waited until someone noticed it was missing and sounded the alarm before they teleported away.

“Can you blame me?” asked Lorelei, pushing herself up and rolling off him to the side. She sighed and settled onto her back, resting her head next to Loki’s, content to stare up at the stars and catch her breath. “You may be Loki, but you’re a new one. I can’t be sure that you know everything the old one did.”

“Hmm,” he said.

Lorelei released another sigh and sat up. “Come, let’s examine our loot.”

Loki gazed at the stars for a bit longer while Lorelei emptied her purse onto the roof before sitting up and joining her.

“No holding back,” she warned as he began to empty his pockets (both physical and dimensional) of silver bracelets, gold earrings, and diamond rings. Things wealthy Midgardians would miss, but not mourn. They had more than enough riches to throw around. Steal from the rich and give to Lorelei, that was Loki’s motto.

“I _would_ pilfer some of your fine treasure here for Verity,” Loki told her, gesturing at the pile between them, “but I have the feeling she would refuse stolen goods on principle.”

“So don’t tell her it’s stolen.”

“Oh?” He picked up a fine silver bracelet that shone in the moonlight. “So I should just hand her this and say, ‘Yeah, I just managed to pull together twelve thousand dollars for this bracelet, no big deal.’”

Lorelei snatched it from his fingers. “I’m not saying from _my_ haul. Is this really worth twelve grand?”

“If its previous owner wasn’t just blowing smoke,” said Loki. “Name was Jacqueline. Nice lady. Kept staring at my ass.”

Lorelei wrinkled her nose. “Cute.”

“She seemed to think so.”

Lorelei rolled her eyes. “So how is she?”

“Jacqueline? A little old for me, I should think.”

“No, your mortal pet. How is she?”

Loki took a moment of untangling two bracelets from each other to stall, uncertain what Lorelei was looking for in his answer. “ _Not_ too old for me,” he said decisively, passing her the bracelets.

Lorelei smirked. “Not what I meant. Obviously.” She flipped the lid of the box open and the reflection of moonlight lit up her face in a soft blue. She turned her face a bit and brushed a stray eyelash off her cheek, then stuck out her chin to check her lipstick. “So?”

“Fine,” said Loki, and he reached over to drop a handful of earrings into the box. They tinkled as they hit the glass inside and Lorelei frowned.

“How does it work?” she asked, pouting her lower lip a little.

“I suspect it requires a key,” Loki told her.

“I didn’t see a key.”

“Perhaps you weren’t looking in the right place.”

Lorelei closed the box and turned it around in her hands, frowning, and Loki reached into his coat pocket and drew the long, silver key out. He turned it in his fingers for a few moments while Lorelei fretted about the box, and then he sighed heavily. Lorelei shot him a glare that changed with a blink into a look of surprise. Then she smirked and held out her hand. Loki grinned and passed the key over.

“Smart ass,” Lorelei muttered, fitting the key into the lock. When she opened the box again, the earrings were gone, and she smiled, satisfied.

“I was thinking about trying out your trick,” she said, filling the box with jewelry and experimenting with the enchantment.

“Oh?” Loki leaned back and rested on his hands. “Which one?”

“This marriage trick,” she said. “I was going to wait and see how you fared with it. See if it really works and you can use your American citizenship to keep Asgardia at bay.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s hardly a trick. You just have to know Midgardian marriage laws. And it might not work anyway.”

“That’s why I thought to wait to see your results. But I’m getting impatient, and Asgardia is only getting more insistent.” She shoved the box back into her purse. “So I thought to find a nice, wealthy mortal man to enthrall. Met a few tonight, actually,” she added with a wink, flourishing a handful of business cards.

“It takes three years,” Loki told her. “That’s a long time to live with someone you hardly know.”

“Oh, I’d just enchant him into thinking I’m there all the time,” said Lorelei breezily, waving a dismissive hand.

Loki frowned. “That’s a powerful spell.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, her lips curling up.

He shrugged off a sense of unease. Why should he care if she put some mortal under an enchantment for longer than was strictly safe? “Just don’t kill anyone,” he warned.

Lorelei scoffed. “You _have_ changed. What is it with you and your brother and _mortals?_ ”

“I’m just saying, it’ll cause trouble for the rest of us if you go around enchanting mortals to death,” he said, rolling his eyes for effect. He resented the comparison to Thor, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he had grown to like mortals. Or at least certain things about them. Their incredibly short memories, for one, which resulted in their seemingly endless capacity for forgiveness. Loki would hold onto no illusions that he could be forgiven otherwise. Some things, he knew, could not be forgiven.

“No, it’s more than that,” Lorelei sneered. “You haven’t actually grown attached to your mortal pet, have you?”

Loki huffed out a laugh, hoping it sounded more dismissive than he felt. “You’re just jealous that I can get people to organically like me, while you have to enchant anyone to win their affection.”

Lorelei drew herself up and Loki was surprised by the fury in her expression. Before he could backpedal, she screeched at him.

“Oh, that’s _rich_ ,” she snapped, “coming from a man who can’t _keep_ a friend to save his life.”

Loki glared at her and sat up, but for a moment he was too stunned to speak. That _hurt_. He didn’t even want to admit to himself how much, so he squashed the feeling down and replaced it with rage. Rage was always easier to deal with.

“Fuck you,” he said, his voice low, a warning.

“Fuck _you_ ,” Lorelei retorted. She stood up quickly and roughly snatched up her purse. Loki followed suit, getting to his feet, and Lorelei whirled around and stomped across the rooftop.

“You already have!” Loki shouted after her. “And how’s Sigurd, by the way?”

Lorelei spun around again. “Go to Hel!” she spat. She started toward the edge of the roof. She would have to climb down and find her own way home now. Probably enchant some taxi driver to give her a free ride in exchange for a free ride.

Which reminded Loki that _this_ wasn’t a free ride.

“Hey!” he shouted. “My payment!”

Lorelei thrust her hand into her purse and threw the glass cutter as hard as she could, and Loki had to take a step back to catch it.

“Take it!” she screamed. “I’d rather _die_ than be indebted to you!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

She stepped out of view and Loki waited for thirty long seconds before he was sure she had gone, and then he screamed and kicked an air vent box. Lorelei was stupid. She would claim to know everything about Loki—about every Loki—until the day she died, and then probably after, but she didn’t know a Hel-damned thing. _You’re not like the old Loki_ , she said. _You_ have _changed_ , she said. _What is it with you and your brother?_ As if she knew anything— _anything_ —What he had sacrificed, what he wanted…

_You can’t keep a friend to save your life_.

When he came to, the red rage fading from his eyes, Loki found himself curled in a crouch, clutching his head. The sinuses behind his eyes hurt and he could feel a headache building at his temples. He was breathing heavily, in gasps, and he wondered how long he had been there.

Loki lifted his head. The air vent cover had a dent in it the size of a basketball and he was pretty sure there had been a dirty lawn chair on the roof before from some barbecue a neighbor had thrown months ago when anyone had even wanted to go outside. A satellite dish lay in pieces next to its stand and wouldn’t that just be _perfect_ , just fucking _perfect_ , if it was his. Of _course_ he would break his own things. He always broke everything that was his eventually. Thor, his _one chance_ at a new good self, Leah, the Young Avengers—

_You really are your own worst enemy._

“Fuck,” muttered Loki, and he didn’t realize that he was calling America until the dial tone rang in his ear. He cursed again and quickly hung up. He clenched his fists around his Starkphone and the glass cutter, which he nearly chucked over the side of the building in anger before remembering that it was the one good thing that had come out of tonight. He shoved it in a deep pocket of his coat so he could forget about it for now and ran his hands through his hair, dislodging his horns slightly.

_You can’t keep a friend to save your life_.

_Norns_ , he would give anything to not be Loki right now, in spite of everything he had done to be Loki.

“You okay, chico?”

Loki started, lost his balance, and fell onto his ass. America raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, and Loki tried to cover by settling back, but America didn’t look convinced.

“Bor’s blood, Chavez,” he swore. “What are you doing here?”

America crossed her arms. “I got your call. What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

America looked around the roof, taking in the sight of the smashed satellite and dented metal. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” she said, and then pointed at Loki. “And you don’t look ‘fine.’”

Loki sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Damn America’s sense of perception, and damn the moon for being so bright tonight. And damn him for being a fool.

“I, er,” he began, “had a bit of a row with Lorelei.”

“A row, huh?” said America. “That anything like a fight?”

Loki attempted a laugh, but he was _tired_ , and he didn’t have the energy to fake it for America. Maybe someone more gullible, but not America.

America strode over and dropped down onto the roof next to him. “Jeez, chico, is that it? I thought you were in trouble or something.”

Loki gave her a half-smile. “I might be, if I’ve pissed off Lorelei.”

“I swear, if it’s not Billy being miserable and fucking things up, it’s you.” America snorted. “What happened? She break your satellite dish?”

“No, that was me,” he admitted. “I, er, _may_ have implied that she uses sex to get people to like her.”

America let out a low whistle. “Low blow, chico. What did she ever do to you?”

Loki grinned. “Used sex to get me to like her.” America punched his arm and he laughed.

“Well, you’re better off without her,” said America. “She’s a bad influence on you, if you’re out having ‘rows’ on rooftops at _three in the morning_ ,” she added with a glare.

He winced. “Sorry. I misdialed. Meant to call Pizza Hut.”

“Ha ha. Where’s Verity?”

Loki shrugged. “Asleep, probably. She just got back from her family’s, I believe.” Verity had visited her family for Christmas, but she texted Loki earlier that she was coming back that day. When he told her he wouldn’t be back until late, she said her apartment didn’t have any food so she was coming over anyway.

America nodded, but she didn’t say anything for a while, and Loki wondered why she had even come. To check up on him after a late night call that never went through? Sort of a strange thing to do, unless she was already up to begin with. But then, America was a hero; if someone like Loki called in the middle of the night, it might be her duty to look into it. Make sure he’s not up to something.

But then, upon discovering that he _wasn’t_ up to something, shouldn’t she have left? Instead, she sat down next to him and asked about Lorelei.

A very strange thought occurred to him then, but he could hardly believe it might be true.

_You can’t keep a friend to save your life_.

But maybe he had.

“Chavez,” said Loki slowly, almost afraid to ask, but curiosity won out in the end. “Are we friends?”

America’s silence seemed to be answer enough, and for some reason, Loki felt his chest tighten, and he closed his eyes and was sorry he asked.

Then: “You’re kidding, right?”

Loki frowned and considered laughing it off, sort of like he had with David, but America’s blank stare confused him and he said nothing.

Quite suddenly, America’s eyes blazed and her top lip rose in a disgusted sneer.

“Fucking hell, chico,” she said, with such force that Loki flinched. America pushed herself to her feet, clenching her fists and glaring down at Loki, and all he could do was stare helplessly and brace himself for the inevitable punch. He deserved it, for even presuming—

“Get your head out of your ass!” spat America, and Loki blinked and started again. She looked angrier than he had seen her in a long time.

“S-sorry?” he stammered.

America scoffed and spun on her heel. She only took a few steps before turning around again, like Lorelei had done, and Loki had a sinking feeling that he had just made an awful mistake.

“You know, _you_ ran out on _us_ ,” said America, jabbing a finger in his direction, and then she turned and kicked a portal into the roof.

Loki sprang to his feet. “America, wait—” But she jumped through and before he could reach the portal, it closed. He looked down at the spot through which she disappeared, stunned.

So. Lorelei was right after all.

“Fuck,” Loki spat.

Before he could do anything else stupid, he climbed down the fire escape to his apartment window and slid inside. He paced across the living room until he had forgotten how many times he had done it, and then he stopped and remembered Verity. He didn’t see any sign of her in the apartment. Had she stayed home after all?

He crept over to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and Loki pushed it open slowly and peered into the darkness. The curtains were drawn, but the moonlight filtering in through the open door let him see a slight bump on the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Loki could see the outline of Verity, her red hair spread out on the pillow behind her, the curve of her hip under the blankets. Loki leaned against the doorframe and watched her. She came over more often now, of her own accord. He didn’t even have to ask her. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted to spend time with him enough to go out of their way to see him. Even Leah, with the kid… That was a little one-sided. A case of Loki getting attached to someone that barely tolerated him or only wanted to use him for personal gain. He deserved it, he supposed; he only ever used other people for personal gain. Karma would right the universe.

Lorelei was right; he had gotten attached. Again. But this time he decided to take it one step further—past friendship, into the realm of marriage, which had a bond that was a bit stronger, Loki thought. Maybe _this_ would be the thing, he thought, to prevent another loss, another betrayal. From himself or otherwise. He still had the expectation—the paranoia—that Verity would betray him eventually somehow, and even more so, he had the fear that _he_ would betray _her_. But then, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking that. Verity had asked Loki to trust her. And maybe it was foolishly optimistic to do so, but now—just one more time—he would.

He thought of climbing into bed with her, of wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep, but he was on a losing streak tonight. However much he wanted to be with Verity right now, he knew he would just fuck it up.

He turned around, pulling the door closed behind him, and went to the sofa. He fell into it and closed his eyes, but he didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

 

* * *

 

It felt like only minutes later when Verity gently shook him awake. Loki didn’t open his eyes, but Verity stopped, sensing that he was conscious, and brushed his hair out of his face.

“Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” she said.

“Still?” he muttered. “This holiday lasts longer every year.”

“Well, day after Christmas,” she amended, stroking his face. He turned his head into her touch and considered pulling her down to lie next to him, but he decided he was too tired to move and was content with being pet. “I didn’t hear you come in last night,” said Verity.

“It was almost four. Didn’t wanna disturb you.”

Verity hummed thoughtfully and began to pull her hand away, but Loki didn’t want her to go. He quickly grabbed her wrist and then opened his eyes and smiled sheepishly when she inhaled sharply.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

Verity rolled her eyes, but when Loki released her, she caressed his cheek. “So how was your thing with Lorelei last night?”

Loki nearly automatically said, “Fine,” but he stopped himself when he remembered. “Could have gone better.”

“Should I even ask what you were doing?”

“Playing Bondage Queen. Best if you don’t,” he said, and Verity shrugged. “She’s mad at me now, by the way, so maybe don’t try to contact her.”

“What did you do?”

“A lot of stupid things, actually,” he admitted, and then he winced. “I, ah, may have also pissed off America.”

“Wow, you were on a roll.” Verity frowned. “Still, she can’t be too angry with you,” she said, and when Loki raised an eyebrow, she explained: “America texted me this morning.” She reached into her pocket for her phone and read the text aloud for him: “Tell _chico_ that even though I’m not talking to him right now he’d still better be at Kate’s party or I’ll kick him to Jupiter.”

“Jupiter’s not so bad,” mused Loki. “Not as nice as Uranus, though,” he added, which earned him a pinch on the ear.

“What happened?” asked Verity, slipping her phone away. “I thought you were only with Lorelei last night.”

“America made a surprise guest appearance after Lorelei left,” Loki explained, sparing Verity the details. “I insulted her, I think, when I asked her if we are friends.”

Verity stared down at him, pausing in her caresses, and Loki was ready to whine at her for stopping, but she spoke. “You know how people say there’s no such thing as a stupid question?”

Oh, he was going to get it now.

“ _That_ was a stupid question.”

He looked away and decided not to say anything, as his silver tongue seemed to be working against him recently. Verity sighed and ran a hand through Loki’s hair once, and then she stood up.

“Come on,” she said. “Get up and dressed. Let’s go shopping.”

Loki sat up and frowned. “What for?”

Verity smiled. “Party clothes. Jupiter may be all right, but it’s pretty far away. I’d like to keep you closer than that.”

 

* * *

 

 

“…5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!”

Everyone on the patio screamed and whooped at once. Confetti and streamers burst into the air and there were choruses of song from some corners of the rooftop suite. Kate really knew how to throw a party—with a little help from her dad’s bank accounts—and how to take advantage of a rarely used apartment suite.

Loki would admit that it was a little strange to be here, among so many of the city’s young heroes, but none of them seemed to mind. Granted, many of them were a little tipsy, but he had a feeling sobriety wouldn’t make them any less amicable. That was the trouble with heroes and their Messiah Complexes; they were all so ready to forgive him. Kate had even kissed his cheek when he arrived with Verity, and America gave him a friendly punch on the arm. Mingling hadn’t even been hard, really, in spite of his reservations. He was going to come in disguise, but Verity made him promise no illusions. He had already broken this promise a few times already, in fits of unease and paranoia and the need for anonymity, but he was a little drunk, too, so she could hardly blame him.

Truth be told, he loved New Years’ parties. All the quaint naiveté and optimism was infectious. He could almost hope that he _wasn’t_ doomed. It was almost easy to ignore the uneasy swimming in his stomach at the thought of the _future_ —and hell, even of the past, because neither was exactly _attractive_ to him—and drink, drink, drink and joke with his fellow partygoers as though _nothing_ was bothering him _ever_.

He was pretty accustomed to acting like this.

He was feeling warm and light when the confetti burst overhead and it might have had something to do with the champagne, and then again, maybe not. Verity whooped beside him, and it was so rare that she loosened up enough to just enjoy the absurdity of celebrating something like a planet going around the sun one more time that Loki felt a surge of pride, and he spun her around and kissed her. She laughed against his mouth, her breath like sweet champagne, and she flung her arms around his neck. The party guests around them seemed to fade away until only Verity was with him, her warmth pressed against him.

He would never tell her, because she would hate it—something about self-deception and false promises—but he had made a New Year’s resolution. And maybe it was useless and hopeless and, worst and best of all, a lie, but he would be _damned_ if he was going to be damned.

“Well, looks like _someone_ is finally going to get lucky on New Year’s.”

Loki smirked. Verity turned, but Loki didn’t bother, burying his nose in her hair instead.

“You’re just jealous because _you_ missed out,” said Loki.

David snorted. “Yeah right. I wouldn’t touch your crazy with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. No offense, Verity,” he added.

“None taken, David,” she replied, but she did squeeze Loki’s shoulder, as though in reassurance. He didn’t need it; it wasn’t the first time he had been compared to the Grinch, and he didn’t really expect a last. It was all the green, he supposed. Well, and that one time that he _did_ try to steal Christmas, but that had just been for fun.

“I see you’ve met,” Loki remarked. “That’s troubling.”

“You were dancing with Kate,” explained Verity.

“There they are!”

“Ah, speaking of Kate…” said David, waving. Loki turned and briefly stopped breathing. Kate was heading toward them, smiling broadly, towing along America, Teddy, and Billy. His stomach did several backflips. He hadn’t seen Billy since… Well…

Loki plastered a smile on his face as they approached and felt Verity squeeze his hand, even though he had never told her that a reunion had been something he had avoided until now. Had he slipped at some point and lied about a reason or something? He couldn’t remember anything that might have tipped her off.

“Hey guys, happy new year!” said David, stepping in for hugs from Billy and Teddy.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Teddy. “We had to escape the party at Billy’s parents’.”

“No worries!” said Kate cheerfully. “The night is still young.”

“Long time no see, Loki,” said Billy, and Loki managed not to jump out of his skin, though he had the terrible urge to teleport away, not unlike the panic he had felt at seeing Leah.

“Oh yeah,” he said casually. “Sorry about that. Something urgent came up, you know how it is.”

David snorted, and Billy’s eyes flicked to him before returning to Loki, and to Loki’s unending shock, Billy smiled.

“I’ve heard,” he said. “You’ve been keeping busy.”

Loki shrugged.

“So who’s this?” asked Teddy, turning to Verity.

“The newest addition to my harem,” said Loki, pulling Verity closer by her waist. Verity scoffed and half-heartedly pushed him away. “Verity, this is Teddy and Billy. Billy, Teddy, Verity.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Billy, holding out his hand.

“Likewise,” said Verity, shaking it.

“We’ve heard a lot about you from America,” said Teddy.

“All good things, I hope,” said Verity.

“I told them you suck at Street Fighter,” said America.

Verity frowned. “I don’t _suck_ at it, I just—”

“No, you suck at it,” said Loki, and he dodged her elbow to the laughter of the others.

“I can’t believe this guy convinced you to marry him,” said Teddy, shaking his head.

“I hope it doesn’t reflect too poorly on me,” said Verity, smirking.

Loki frowned. “Hey…”

“No judgment here,” said Billy with a shrug.

“Maybe a little,” said Teddy, and he grinned when Verity laughed.

“She’s been keeping him out of trouble at least,” said David.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s really possible,” said Verity, apparently fitting in with Loki’s former teammates easily. “You should have seen him this summer, after—”

“They don’t need to know every sordid detail of my misadventures, I think,” Loki interrupted.

“Come on, it was funny—”

“For _you,_ maybe, but you didn’t have to wash gunk out of your—”

“ _Now_ who’s sharing sordid details?” remarked Kate. “What happened?”

Loki sighed. “Fought a wyrm. It exploded on me. All sorts of nasty.”

“A worm?” asked Billy, his nose wrinkled cutely in confusion.

“Wyrm,” Loki corrected. “With a y. Totally fruitless, too, it didn’t even have the crystal I was searching for… Complete waste of time.”

“And it exploded?” asked David, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“There may have been a rocket launcher involved. Hey, _you_ try to fight a full-grown treasure wyrm for a piece of its hoard without firepower,” Loki added when they all snickered. “See what happens.”

“Well, at least you’re not _causing_ trouble,” said David.

Loki shrugged. “Not that you know of,” he said.

“Loki doesn’t cause trouble,” said Kate. “Loki _is_ trouble.”

“Verity seems to be keeping him in line,” said David.

“I’m standing right here, you know,” Loki reminded them.

“I do my best,” said Verity, apparently also ignoring him, “but you guys probably know as well as I do what a handful he is.”

Loki threw up his hands. “Well, if you’re all just going to stand here and have a Loki-bashing session, I’m going to need a drink.”

“Get me one, too, will you?” said Verity, without even glancing at him, and he hated it when she did that, but then she turned and smiled brightly at him and his annoyance fell away.

“Slave driver, this one,” he complained as he turned away. He was a little reluctant to leave Verity alone with them to swap secrets about him, but it also felt necessary. The Young Avengers needed to talk to Verity on her own terms so they could see who she really was without Loki looming over her and manipulating her.

And Loki needed a drink.

He wandered over to the bar at the edge of the patio, stopping once to converse briefly with a girl he had seen before _somewhere_ , and then once he had figured it out (she was on the battlefield in the fight against the Mother parasite), he excused himself and stepped up to the bar. All the liquor and spirits were arranged haphazardly on the counter attached to the outside wall of the suite. He found a bottle of vodka and topped off two cups of jungle juice with a shot each. Mortals were adorable, with their fruity mixed drinks, which at least satisfied Loki’s sweet tooth, even if they failed to get him drunk. After a moment of deliberation, knocked back a shot. He would need it to deal with being surrounded by Young Avengers.

When he found the group again, after weaving through the partygoers, they were all standing under a heat lamp and laughing, and Loki considered sneaking up on them invisible, but in the end he decided it didn’t matter. He slid up next to Verity and rejoined their circle.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” he asked, handing Verity her drink.

She thanked him and took a sip. “I was just telling them all your deepest, darkest secrets,” she teased.

“Ha ha,” said Loki, rolling his eyes. “Joke’s on you, they already know my deepiest, darkiest secret. Can’t surprise this lot.”

“I dunno, I was pretty surprised,” said Billy with a rather wicked grin, and before Loki could ask what he meant, he said: “Can you really not do basic calculus?”

Loki turned to glare at Verity and tried to ignore the giggling teenagers around him. Verity just shrugged and took another sip of her drink. He should have dumped another shot in.

“Now look here,” said Loki, scowling. “That shit is useless to me, and not everyone can be a mathematics genius like you—”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, Loki,” said Verity, patting his arm condescendingly. “I _suck_ at video games, and you can’t derive. We all have our flaws.”

“Ha. _Ha._ ”

“You wanna borrow my notes?” said Billy, still grinning. Great, now the reality witch was teasing him. How far he had fallen…

“Sure,” said Loki, playing along. “We can trade. Your math class notes for a spell or two.”

“Three spells.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully. “No deal,” he said at last, shaking his head. “I am married to a stunningly brilliant mathematician now, after all. What need have I for your high school notes?

Billy laughed. “Your loss. The wheel never stops turning, Loki.”

Loki smirked. “That only matters to the people on the rim.”

Billy’s bright smile made Loki’s heart skip a beat, because fuck, that was a genuinely delighted smile and even after everything Loki had done to him, he could still make jokes and smile like that at Loki. This is exactly what he had been avoiding. That easy forgiveness that made it so easy, _too_ easy, to slip back because they would always forgive him and that would give him a free pass to transgress again, and he could… he could so easily…

And then it hit him like a kick to the gut. He _could_ but he didn’t want to. Because these people—these mortals, these heroes—were his friends. Like Verity. Like America. He had hurt them, but they had forgiven him and… he _cared_. Maybe he always had. That’s why he had gone back to stop Billy from executing Plan B. That’s why he owned up to his mistakes—no, not _mistakes_ , betrayals, complete and utterly purposeful betrayals and manipulations. That’s why he left. Because they deserved better.

He glanced at Verity. She was laughing with Kate, leaning toward the younger girl but still keeping in contact with Loki, her hand on his arm. Then he noticed how close David was standing and how tight their circle was and why were they trusting him to even stand near them? Why did they even want him around?

He felt America watching him and looked up, meeting her eyes. She smiled and Loki blinked and looked away, covering by quickly taking a drink.

“I’m surprised.”

Loki jumped and was relieved to see that everyone else had, too, when there was suddenly a white-haired boy standing in the middle of their circle, staring at Loki with his hand on his chin. He looked a great deal like Billy, oddly enough.

“And a little disappointed,” the boy added.

Billy sighed heavily. “Tommy, where have you _been_?”

Tommy shrugged. “Jersey. You know, I didn’t expect you to be so _normal_ , after everything David said,” he added to Loki.

Loki smirked. “I can assure you, I’m not.”

The boy blinked out of sight, and Loki felt Verity jump and turned to see Tommy standing next to her, an elbow on her shoulder. Ah, that’s right. A speedster.

“And who are you supposed to be?” the boy asked.

“Verity,” answered Billy. “And this is my brother, Tommy.”

“Who’s Verity?” asked Tommy, still leaning on the woman in question, who looked a little shell-shocked.

“She’s… Loki’s wife,” said Billy, sounding a little uncertain and glancing at Loki for confirmation.

“Weird,” said Tommy, nodding.

“Totally,” agreed Teddy. Loki stuck his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, he disappears for a year and then just shows up with a new wife,” said Kate.

“And a fancy new outfit,” Loki reminded her, because Kate had commented when he first arrived on the party clothes he and Verity had bought. She had suggested he ditch the usual look, but he had found every excuse to wear his Seven League boots and his trademark horns.

“And apparently the inability to do math,” mused Billy.

“That’s not new though,” said Teddy, grinning.

“Psh! I don’t want to talk about mathematics anymore,” said Loki, and he drained his cup and set it on a wall, then turned to Verity. “Dance with me.”

Before she had a chance to reply, Loki took her hand, so she quickly took a final gulp of her drink and abandoned it next to Loki’s cup. She gave the others a helpless smile, but she allowed herself to be pulled into the crowd, nearer the music.

“You are so awkward,” Verity told him. “Just talk to them.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he muttered, placing his hands on her hips. Her black dress was smooth under his hands. They had picked her dress out together, too. Long-sleeved for winter, with a deep v-neckline to show just enough cleavage, though honestly there could be _more_.

“Hey, eyes up here,” said Verity, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He looked up and grinned, and she laughed. “Look, they like you. And I like you. Don’t wonder about the reasons and whether we should. It’s too late for that. You’ve got us hooked.”

“That’s what worries me.” He sighed. “Feel free to change your minds.”

“Not going to any time soon, I think,” said Verity, taking one of his hands. “It’s a new year. _You_ decide what happens in this one.”

Loki smirked. “Maybe don’t give me such free reign.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m your wife now. _I’m_ in charge of you.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Verity laughed and then they just danced and Loki could feel the alcohol starting to take effect again. By the time the Young Avengers joined them on the dance floor, he felt warm and light again. The music was good and the company was better. What had he been worried about?

He was dancing with America, who kept telling him to keep his hands to himself, _chico_ , but he was only doing it to rile her up and she knew it so it was mostly playful, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” said Billy, leaning in to speak into Loki’s ear over the music. “We’re glad you could make it.”

“Yeah,” said Loki. “There _was_ this _other_ party in Latveria, but…”

Billy laughed. “Call us crazy, but we missed you.”

Loki grinned. “You’re crazy,” he said into Billy’s ear, and Billy laughed again and Loki turned and grabbed his hands because, what the hell, it was a party and he was drunk and they were sort of friends, maybe, and it was a new year. He could make it better. He could _be_ better.

So he danced with Billy, but he kept his _hands to himself, chico_ , because it just wasn’t worth it to use people he liked to his own ends, and even if Billy’s power and potential was tempting, it just wasn’t worth it.

He would amend his New Year’s resolution: He had wanted to be the kind of person Verity deserved as a friend. He wanted to be the kind of person they all deserved.

He wasn’t, couldn’t be perhaps, but he could damn well try.

 

* * *

“No. Way.”

Loki nodded solemnly. “I shit you not, dear Mr. Kaplan. Just ask Verity.”

Everyone in their circle laughed and half of them looked at Verity where she was sitting next to him on the short wall at the edge of the roof. Loki had been telling them a story about something he and Thor had come across on their jaunt to the Tenth Realm, and Verity hadn’t interrupted him once to scold him about his embellishments. True, he hadn’t really told any outrageous fibs, as the story by itself was outrageous enough, and Verity was quite intoxicated, but she usually called him out on one lie, just on principle.

“Oh no,” said Verity, waving her hand in the air. “I’ve told you, I’m not your personal lie detector that you can use to get people to trust you. That’s a dangerous game, and I’m not playing.”

Loki gasped. “You’re not?” he demanded. “But that’s the whole reason I married you! What a rip off. I want a divorce.”

Verity laughed and shoved him, but he pushed back so she couldn’t budge him. When she could see she wasn’t moving him anywhere, she set aside her drink and used both hands to push him off the wall. Loki slid down to the floor obligingly and was about to complain when he felt her hands on his head.

“Hey,” he said, batting at her hands, but she quickly grabbed one of his horns and yanked off his diadem. “No no no—Ugh…”

They were all laughing again, and when Loki turned, Verity was turning his horns lazily in her hands, smirking.

“All right, well done, well done,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Now return what’s mine.”

Verity hummed and lifted the diadem to her brow. “Well, by New York state law, half of everything you own belongs to me, so…”

“Fairly certain we waived that clause.”

Verity grinned down at him. “I slipped it back in while you weren’t looking.”

“Who’s the liar now?” Loki teased. “If you did, then congratulations, you tricked the trickster and so deserve those horns.”

“How do you even keep them on?” said Verity, struggling with the diadem. When she let go, it slipped down her forehead.

“Here.” Loki pushed himself back up onto the wall and took the horns from her hands. “Chin up,” he said.

Verity lifted her chin so he could readjust the diadem. “Is this why you always look like a stuck-up bitch?”

“No,” he said, pinching her chin briefly so she would lower it again. “I just _am_ a stuck-up bitch.”

Kate snorted into her cup and Loki shot her a grin. Verity sat back and flipped her hair, and this time the diadem stayed in place.

“How do I look?” she asked, striking a pose, and Loki thought it looked a bit strange on her. Perhaps it was simply her virtue of not being a liar. He sort of liked it.

“Like an asshole,” said America promptly, and Verity laughed, throwing her head back, and Loki thought the more he looked at her with his horns, the funnier it was.

“Come here,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “Let’s take a selfie.”

Verity scooted over closer and Loki held out his phone and turned it to get them both in frame at a slight angle. Verity posed with her chin on her fist, her lips slightly pursed, and an eyebrow raised, and Loki mimed shock and snapped a picture. And then he couldn’t help it and turned to kiss her cheek and snapped another one. Verity was laughing in the photo, her eyes closed and her nose scrunched up, and she looked so damn cute and hilarious, he almost kissed her again, but then Kate spoke and reminded him where they were.

“You guys are too adorable,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I’m going to throw up,” said David.

“See?” Loki said to Verity, and then sing-songed, “ _Jealous_.”

Verity giggled and then gasped as the diadem disappeared from her brow. Loki looked around, because now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to tell that the speedster was responsible. Sure enough, the white-haired kid was sitting down next to Billy, who didn’t look at all fazed by his brother’s sudden appearance (must be used to it by now), holding the diadem by the horns.

“Tommy, give that back,” said Billy, but he was laughing.

“No way. Sometimes you just gotta grab life by the horns,” said Tommy, and he lifted them.

“Don’t!” shouted Loki, throwing out his hand, and everyone jumped and stared at Loki, wide-eyed. Even Tommy froze. Loki waited for a few seconds, for dramatic effect, and then grinned widely. “It’ll make you look like an asshole.”

America burst out laughing and Billy groaned and slumped over. “Oh my God,” he said, “I thought you were going to say it was cursed.”

“Isn’t it?” said America, and Loki stuck his tongue out at her.

Tommy shrugged. “Oh well. YOLO!” He pressed the diadem onto his brow and Loki decided that he liked this kid. Where was Tommy when Loki was palling around with the Young Avengers?

Oh yeah.

“Oh no!” said Teddy. “You totally look like an asshole now.”

Tommy laughed and zipped around Billy to force the horns onto Teddy’s head. Teddy shouted in protest and quickly, before he could pull the diadem off, Loki jumped down from the wall and spun to sit next to Teddy and take a picture with him. Teddy flinched at the flash.

“Augh! Now there’s proof!”

“This is going straight onto Instagram,” Loki assured him, inspecting the photo briefly.

“My turn,” said Billy, reaching for Loki’s headpiece, and from there it was only natural to pass it around and take a picture with everyone. Tommy got another turn, too, and they gave each other rabbit ears, and America insisted on a picture of her standing triumphantly on top of Loki. In David’s picture, he was pushing Loki’s face out of frame while striking a thinking pose. Billy smirked proudly in his picture, and it was all Loki could do not to kiss _his_ cheek. After Kate crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue for her turn, she told Loki that Clint was going to kill him.

“I’m not afraid of Barton,” he told her. “I’ll even tag him in the picture as that plant over there.”

Kate giggled and removed the horns. “Did I ever tell you what he said about that night you snuck in to announce your engagement?”

Loki grinned. “What did he say?”

“He said—”

But she was interrupted by a shout and Loki heard David yell Verity’s name, and when he turned, he only saw her legs kicking up in the air before she disappeared over the edge of the wall.

Teddy and Tommy were there first, being closest to the wall at the time, but Loki wasn’t going to wait for them to reach for her. He ran and leapt up onto the wall, and then, amidst shouts of his name, he leaned forward and stepped off the roof.

He stumbled a bit while he attempted to find his footing, but then the boots compensated and he was sprinting down the side of the building. Verity hadn’t fallen far yet, but she was picking up speed and if he remembered correctly, mortals could have heart attacks during a long fall, out of fear or lack of oxygen or something. How silly and fragile they were.

_Please don’t let me be too late._

He put on a burst of speed, forcing his legs to move faster, faster, he had to catch her, please don’t let him be too late, like he almost was with Billy…

And then Loki reached her and overtook her and turned, because catching her fully was safer than yanking her arm out of its socket. _So silly and fragile…_ He dug his feet into the wall and only a millisecond after he braced himself for impact, Verity’s body hit him like a ton of bricks. Or, well, about a hundred pounds of bricks. He grabbed onto her and felt his boots sliding backwards down the wall, skidding with the sudden blow, and it took all his strength to stay standing upright and not fall to his knees. He wasn’t sure the boots would adjust to that position, and Verity wasn’t in the same gravity field, so he might end up dropping her.

Verity gasped in his arms and Loki’s heart seemed to start again, suddenly beating hard against his ribcage, but then her breaths came quickly and heavily.

“I got you, I got you,” he said quickly. “Hey, grab onto me Verity, I need you to hold on.”

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m here, hold onto me.”

She ignored the joke; she probably didn’t even register it. “Shit. Shit.” Then she groped at him and eventually got her arms around his neck. He held her close with one arm and grabbed her under her thighs with the other. It was awkward, but they couldn’t shift positions like this. Now that she was holding on tight, though, Loki felt like he could start to walk up the building. He took one careful step forward and the boots held, so he took another.

“Oh my God.”

“I’ve got you,” he told her. “Just don’t look down.”

Verity giggled weakly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You’d be doing me a solid if you didn’t get sick on _me_.”

“Fuck.” She buried her face in Loki’s neck, her breath hot and real and _alive_ against his skin, and laughed weakly again. “Fuck.”

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he told her, because she was gasping again. He could hardly hear her over the booming sound of his own heartbeat. He tried to ignore the ache in his legs and trudged slowly up the wall.

They hadn’t fallen very far at all, only a few stories, and soon they were close enough to hear everyone yelling from the rooftop suite. Teddy had sprouted wings and Billy’s hands were glowing blue. Kate was gripping the edge of the wall so hard that if she were superhuman, it would probably crumble in her fingers, and America stood on top of the wall next to her, looking ready to punch a hole in reality.

Loki couldn’t hear what they were all saying, but he could guess. “We’re fine, she’s fine,” he shouted up to them, but either they didn’t hear or they just had more questions, because they didn’t stop yelling. Loki blocked them out and concentrated instead on walking. When he finally made it to the roof, everyone reached down and Loki reluctantly handed up Verity. They got her to her feet and Kate immediately began to fuss at her, but Verity wasn’t responding.

Loki was stuck until he could reposition his center of gravity, and Verity needed to be grounded. “Hey!” he shouted. “Verity! Verity!”

Finally, she turned and looked down at him. He leaned forward and held out his hand. “Help me up,” he said.

She hesitated, but then America laid a steadying hand on her shoulder, giving her a nod, and Verity reached down, grasped Loki’s hand, and pulled.

He came over the corner of the roof in a dizzying arc and stumbled down off the wall. The others were pushing back curious party guests and Kate was trying to redirect their attention, and Loki thought about teleporting himself and Verity somewhere quiet, but Verity was shaking badly and Loki’s blood was pounding in his ears so loudly he couldn’t concentrate. Verity groped at his arms, her hands shaking, and Loki pulled her closer.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay.” Her knees buckled and he turned and slowly sat her down, back against the wall. “Let’s sit down. You’re okay. Right?”

Verity nodded and clutched his arms, and Loki cupped her face with both hands, kneeling in front of her.

“You’re okay,” he said, stroking her cheek bones with his thumbs and trying to smile. “Come on, _I’ve_ put you through worse than this. Right? Remember the Wailing Wall?”

That got a laugh out of her. “You mean that place women aren’t allowed?”

“Yeah. And there we were, a couple of fine dames,” he said fondly. “Good times.”

Verity laughed shakily again. “You’re an asshole.”

He nodded. “Just so. And I’ve got the horns to match.” She laughed again, stronger this time, and Loki grinned. “That’s my girl. You’re all right.”

“Yeah,” she said, but she was still gripping his upper arms, her hands like vices. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, no.”

“Are you okay?”

His heart was still drumming in his chest, but he smiled. “What a stupid question,” he said. “ _You’re_ the one that fell off a wall.”

“Let’s not do that again.”

“I promise,” he swore. Her grip loosened and Loki smoothed her hair back and wondered when the adrenaline in his veins would peter off.

“You guys okay?” asked America, and Loki looked over his shoulder. The others had formed a tight, protective half-circle around them. Billy was wringing his hands and David looked like his mind was moving a mile a minute, probably thinking of medical emergencies and calculating falling velocities. Only Tommy stepped forward, his hands held out as though in offering.

“Verity, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly.

“It’s okay,” said Verity. “I’m just not used to…” She waved her hands in the air in a vague, jerky fashion.

Loki’s blood ran cold. He turned to Tommy and fixed a glare on him. “What did you do?” Loki snarled, and Tommy held up his hands, his eyes wide, and America shifted in Loki’s peripheral vision. Before Tommy could say anything in his defense, Loki felt a tug on his coat. He looked down at Verity. He hadn’t even realized he had stood up.

“It was an accident,” said Verity firmly. “I’m drunk, I lost my balance. It’s not his fault. It’s not your fault, Tommy,” she said more loudly, leaning to the side to look at Tommy.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Loki…” said Verity, tugging on his coat again, her fist wrapped in the fabric. Loki shot one more glare at Tommy and then knelt before Verity again. She reached up and this time she cupped his face in her hands. “Are you okay?” she asked again.

He took her wrists and pulled her hands away, forcing a smile. Verity frowned at him, but before she could say anything, he patted her hands.

“You need a drink,” he told her, getting to his feet again.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said David, the computer apparently finished processing. “She might be in shock.”

“I’m fine,” said Verity, waving her hand in the air.

“Are you sure?” asked Kate. “I’ve fallen from a building. It sucks. Shock would be a totally acceptable excuse to chill.”

“I’m really fine,” Verity insisted. “Shaken up, sure, but I think hanging out with various supers and all that comes with has sort of desensitized me to things like this.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing,” said Teddy.

Verity shrugged and smiled. “I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

Loki picked up his diadem from where it had been abandoned on the ground and ran a hand through his hair to push it back so he could replace his horns on his head. “I’ll be right back,” he said, flashing the group a brilliant smile, and then he stepped out of the circle, clapping America briefly on the shoulder as he passed, and strolled to the bar.

The rest of the party had successfully continued, with people still dancing and drinking and sitting around on the patio furniture. Loki’s blood had cooled, but he still wanted to flip over a table and scream. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked, and when he reached the bar, he skipped over the jungle juice entirely. He poured two glasses of champagne, and then quickly downed one before filling it back up. He replaced the champagne bottle, but his hands were shaking too badly to pick up the glasses. He slowly pressed his palms on the table to get them to stop. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Loki jumped, but it was just Teddy. He sighed, relieved, because now someone who couldn’t know he was lying had asked him and he could forge an alibi.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back against the table. “Kinda lost my buzz though.”

Teddy nodded. “We were all scared.”

“Thanks for the assist,” said Loki, gesturing at where Teddy’s wings would be. They were gone now, retracted when Verity was on her feet again.

Teddy smiled. “It’s what we do.”

Ugh. _Heroes_. “Right. No covers blown?”

He shrugged. “Everyone here either has powers or doesn’t care.”

“Well, sorry about the interruption, in any case,” said Loki, donning a grin. He picked up the two champagne glasses and started back to Verity. “Now back to your regularly scheduled partying.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” said Teddy, just as Loki passed him.

Loki stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Teddy smiled softly. “Caring about someone else that much. It feels good.”

Loki stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?” he said, and then he scowled. “ _This_ feels awful. For fuck’s sake, Altman…” Loki shook his head and walked away, trying to ignore Teddy’s chuckles behind him.

America had apparently gotten the message and was sitting close to Verity, one hand on her shoulder. Someone—David, probably—had wrapped Verity in a blanket. She looked a little embarrassed, her cheeks flushed and a sheepish slant in her smile and eyebrows, but other than a small twitch in her movements, she seemed fine, none worse for wear. Loki sidled up next to her and sat down, handing her a glass. She took it with a grateful smile and continued telling her story to the group.

“…I ended up running five blocks,” she was saying, “and I don’t even think he followed me that far, but…” She shrugged. “Lost one of my shoes, too.”

“And then your taxi turned into a pumpkin?” prompted Loki.

Verity elbowed him. “I’m telling them about that guy at the bar. The one that lied about being a war hero.”

“Ah, that story,” he said, remembering. It was an event that had happened before they met. “Serves you right. Us liars don’t generally appreciate being called out.”

“He was taking advantage of all those women in the bar! I can’t stand shit like that.”

“Oh, well, you’ll be relieved to know that _I’ve_ never done something like that,” said Loki. Verity reared back and slugged his arm and he laughed. If she was punching him, then she was just fine. “Hey, don’t hit war heroes!” She gave him a look, so he amended: “Okay, war participant… Okay, war instigator.” She just rolled her eyes.

“Verity’s a trooper,” said David from Loki’s other side. “I can’t believe she’s not in shock.”

“Fuck yeah,” said Loki. “Verity’s a tough bitch.”

“You definitely have a type,” said Teddy.

Loki scoffed. “Who doesn’t love tough bitches? Calling out strange men in bars, punching Norse gods…”

“I gotta say,” said Tommy, apparently already over the fact that he had caused Verity to fall. Tch. Speedsters. “I didn’t know you could run on walls, too.”

“Yeah,” said David suspiciously. “That’s not typically listed among your abilities.”

“My wiki page needs an update, then,” said Loki, grinning. “I have quite a few tricks hidden up my sleeve.”

“How, then?” asked Billy, leaning forward.

“A secret needs keeping, dearest Billy.”

Verity scoffed. “He has—”

Loki quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Verity! How many times have I told you?” He turned her head to face him. “You give them the pledge, the turn, but _never_ the prestige. The secret impresses no one. The trick you use it for is everything.”

Verity rolled her eyes again, but Loki didn’t remove his hand until she met his gaze and nodded.

“Yeah, but we don’t ‘want to be fooled,’” said Billy. “I’ve seen that movie, too.”

“Oh, is _that_ where it’s from?” asked Verity. “Jeez, and here I thought you were actually _reading_.”

Loki elbowed her, and Kate raised an eyebrow.

“Wow,” said Kate. “How do you survive, not being able to quote every damn thing you’ve ever seen around Verity? He used to do it constantly,” she added to Verity. “It was obnoxious.”

“It’s a trial,” complained Loki. “I made, like, thirty _Jurassic Park_ references last week, and it was just…” He made a whooshing noise and swept his hand over his head.

Verity wrinkled her nose at him and he gave her a winning smile because he lived to tease her. She seemed to be feeling better now, almost like nothing had ever happened. He admired that about her. She rolled with the punches. Except for lies, nothing fazed her. She was strong, for a mortal. Unafraid. It made it easier to get along with her, Loki thought. A weaker person might have run for the hills by now. They all really should have.

They all sat around and told stories and drank, and Verity started to call Loki out on his lies, but that petered out again. Loki wondered why until he turned his head and found her dozing against him, her fingers laced in his. He grinned and decided that since she was sleep, he could embellish and fib all he wanted, and his stories grew more ridiculous by the second until America said, “Just because she’s asleep doesn’t mean you can suddenly bull shit us, chico.” He laughed a little uncomfortably and toned it down, but he still lied, because they couldn’t be allowed to know _everything_. There were some parts of him that he still wanted covered up.

Eventually the party began to wind down, and Kate stepped away to see off her guests, but the Young Avengers stayed until the sky began to turn purple.

“Sun’s coming up,” said Teddy.

Billy smiled tiredly. “Happy new year, everyone.”

“Congratulations,” said Loki, “your planet made it around the sun again.”

“We weren’t sure it could happen,” said Billy, stretching.

“But darn it if it wasn’t the little planet that could all over again,” said Loki with a lopsided grin, and Billy returned it.

Kate wandered back over across the emptied patio, which was littered with plastic cups and a stray scarf or two. Loki hadn’t realized how many people had left already. It was probably about time for him to take his leave, too. No sense in overstaying his welcome. As Kate approached, Loki nudged Verity back to consciousness. She complained under her breath, but sat up all the same.

“What a night,” said Kate, stretching and yawning. “Thanks for coming, guys.”

“We should probably head back,” said Billy, getting to his feet. “You coming with, Tommy?”

“You could call and say you’re staying here,” said Kate. “I’ve got enough beds. Probably.”

“Let’s do that,” said Tommy from where he was lying on the ground. The kid had been zipping around all night, and Loki supposed even speedsters had to get tired eventually. It probably helped that he clearly felt guilty about knocking Verity over, as he rightly _should_.

“You guys are welcome to stay, too,” said Kate, and it look Loki a moment to realize she was talking to him.

“No, we should go,” he said, standing slowly so he could help Verity to her feet. “Gotta get Princess Aurora here back.”

“You okay to teleport?” asked America, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we might take a taxi.”

“Don’t bother,” said Kate, waving her hand. “Stay until you’re sober. Save on taxi fare.”

“No, I should—”

Kate put her hand on his arm and he met her eyes, a little startled by the gentleness of her smile.

“Stay,” she said.

Loki debated internally a while, glancing at Verity, who looked dead on her feet, and America, who looked aloof but expectant, and then Billy, who was smiling, too. He wanted to stay; he didn’t want to stay. He wanted to be alone with Verity. He didn’t want them to see.

“Let’s stay,” whispered Verity. “I’m too tired to deal with all those stairs.”

He thought about pointing out that there was a perfectly functional elevator, but instead he just nodded. “Okay.”

Kate smiled and led them all into the suite, which did indeed have enough beds and couches for all of them to cram into. Loki joked that they should all share the master bedroom, and wouldn’t that be fun, and America smacked him on the back of the head.

“You guys can use this one,” said Kate, opening the door to one of the guest rooms, leaving them to the actual couples. “Uh, unless you don’t share,” she added uncertainly, glancing between the bed and Loki and Verity.

“If you have another space, that’d be great,” said Verity, and Loki’s heart dropped slightly. “Loki kicks in his sleep.”

Loki frowned. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” chimed in everyone else, and then they all laughed, but Loki shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want her to sleep separately tonight. He didn’t want to let her out of his _sight_. He couldn’t admit that in front of the others, though.

“Do you have make-up remover?” asked Verity. “I don’t relish the idea of waking up with raccoon face.”

“Oh yeah,” said Kate. “We’ll make a party of it. Ladies this way.” She turned and started down the hall, and Verity stepped away from Loki. He felt abandoned, and he hated it. Worse, he hated that he hated it.

“Well, good night, Loki,” said Teddy. “Or morning. Whatever.”

“It was good to see you,” said Billy.

Loki managed a smile. “Yeah. You guys seem to be doing well, so… You know. Good.”

“See you later?” said Billy.

Loki chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

They wandered down the hall and turned a corner. Tommy had long since disappeared elsewhere into the apartment suite, but David stood next to Loki silently. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, but when it wasn’t forthcoming, Loki decided to break the silence.

“You know…” he began slowly.

“Don’t,” said David, and Loki shrugged. David shook his head and walked away, muttering a last, firm “Good night” before leaving Loki standing in the hallway. Loki sighed and turned to walk into the guest bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

Light was peeking through the sheer curtains on the window, so Loki trudged over to pull the thicker curtains closed, casting himself in darkness. He felt drained suddenly and stumbled to the bed. He sat down heavily and doubled over, holding his head in his hands. Now that he was alone, he could drop his defenses, but he was afraid to do so. For one thing, he wasn’t _really_ alone, nor in a secure place, and besides, if he let it all go now, he felt like he might spill over and lose it. He felt very heavy, his head was still fuzzy, and he was afraid if he relaxed, he would explode.

The door opened and the hall light spat into the room briefly as Verity laughed and said, “Good night,” and then the light disappeared again. Her feet padded softly on the carpet as she walked into the room. She had come back.

She walked around the bed to stand next to Loki. “Hey, Loki,” she said cheerfully, leaning down so her face was level with his. He lifted his eyes from the floor just in time to see her gentle, tired smile before it fell away into a concerned frown. “Are you all right?”

He couldn’t see her very clearly, not in the dim light that squeezed its way into the room from the hallway and window, but she was there. She was okay. She had to be. Something broke inside him, cracking, and then all he could see was Verity falling, falling away from him, her hair a red flag curling and uncurling in the air—

“Loki,” squeaked Verity. “Loki, you’re hurting me…”

He was standing and holding her, his arms tight around her. “Shit,” he gasped, and buried his face in her neck, trying to let go, but he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ let her go.

“Loki…” She reached up and hooked her thumbs under his arms to push him away, but he didn’t want that, no. He slowly forced himself to loosen his grip so she wouldn’t push him away. It worked; she stopped pushing.

“Loki?” she whispered.

He took a deep, shaky breath, and when he released it, it stuttered out and he tried to cover by laughing weakly. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, Verity, you scared me. You scared me back there,” he said quickly, before he could betray himself. “I can’t… Fuck, I can’t lose you, you’re too… too important…” Loki squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. He couldn’t even take another breath. If he did, it would break him, release everything, and he couldn’t have that. She couldn’t see, no one could see… “You’re so damn important.”

“Oh, Loki…” said Verity, finally leaning into him and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry. I was scared, too. I’m so sorry.”

He laughed weakly again and gasped back a sob. “Fuck. Fuck.” But it was too late. It was spilling. Everything was spilling out.

But he could trust Verity, right? She had asked him to, after all. She didn’t let him keep secrets, but she kept his secrets. She had a good heart and a sturdy head. She came back. She kept coming back.

So he would trust her with this, this one secret, this one part of him. This weakness. That she was so important to him. That he needed her this much, that he didn’t know what he would do without her steady presence, that she couldn’t leave him.

That Loki could cry.

“Shh,” Verity was saying, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t.”

“I won’t,” she said, and she pulled him around to sit on the bed and he clung to her and her thumbs brushed his cheeks. She kissed him gently. “Trust me,” she whispered.


	7. Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki comes back from an extended disappearance… and in the end, so does Verity, because if there’s one thing they’re learning in all of this, it’s how important best friends are. #matesbeforedates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning for this chapter: It includes some blood magic and body horror. Possibly not for the squeamish.
> 
> And Loki got a long chapter, so now Verity gets one. Take _THAT_ , Loki POV!
> 
> You're all going to be so mad at me.

_Are you free for dinner on Friday?_

The text came as she was walking down the street to Loki’s apartment, but Verity slipped her phone back into her pocket. She hated texting and walking; he could wait until she was home.

Home. She still thought of it that way. She wasn’t sure that was wise. Or healthy. Or anything good. Maybe six months of marriage did that to a person. Made them think something was more than what it was.

She let herself in and dropped her bag on the coffee table on her way to the kitchen. The fridge was empty, except for a few boxes of Chinese she had left last time and a couple of beers. She considered pouring herself a glass of wine—God knows she needed a few, after her long, shitty day at work—but decided it would clash terribly with the Chinese food. She grabbed a beer and put the take-out boxes on the counter, telling her stomach to shush, and she was about to pull a plate out of the cupboard when she heard a creak and a rustle.

She froze. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Maybe it was something in the apartment settling. You could hear a pin drop in such a quiet apartment anyway—

A shuffling. A groan.

Verity dashed out of the kitchen and into the bedroom and gasped. “Loki!”

He was curled up on the bed, still wearing his armor and boots, his eyes shut and his jaw tight. His breathing was irregular, coming in short hisses through his clenched teeth, and his limbs twitched. He was dreaming. It was that dream again.

“Loki.” Verity hurried to the bed and shook him. “Loki, wake up.”

He whined and turned his face into the bed. Now that she was closer, she could see he was shaking and sweating, and when she touched his cheek, she gasped and jerked her hand back as though she’d touched a burning stove top. He was _hot_. _Really_ hot.

“Shit.” That wasn’t normal. “Loki, wake up,” she said, shaking his shoulder again. “It’s just a dream, wake up.”

“No,” he groans. “Wrong one…”

“What?”

“Help…”

Shit. She tried to turn him over, tried to cup his face in her hands, but he kept turning away, groaning, “No… No…”

“Loki, you’re dreaming, it’s not—It’s not real,” she said, over and over again, and she thought she saw his green eyes peeking through squinted lids, but then he turned away again, muttering and moaning. “Loki, it’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing—I’m here. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere,” she added forcefully when he raised an arm to push her away. “I… I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”

He inhaled sharply and stopped pushing her away, and after a moment, he squinted up at her. “…Verity?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” she said breathlessly. He turned toward her voice and she caught his face in her hands, holding on despite how hot he was. “Are you okay?”

“Nng,” he groaned. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every… where…” he whined. “ _Burning_.”

“I’ll get some water,” she said, and she jumped up from the bed and ran to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water. When she came back, Loki was clawing at his clothes helplessly. Verity pressed the glass into his shaking hands, and while he pushed ice cubes between his lips, she tugged off his boots. They were caked with mud and some sticky, dark substance she didn’t care to identify. They also reeked of sweat. She yanked off his socks and tossed them aside, holding her breath, and then knelt next to him on the bed. He was crunching the ice between his teeth and wincing with every movement.

“Drink,” said Verity, grabbing the glass and tilting it to his lips. He swallowed the water greedily and when it was gone, he panted briefly before moaning again and struggling with the buckles on his scale armor. Verity quickly undid them and he scratched at the back of her hands until she pulled the armor off and gasped. His shirt below was soaked through with sweat and there were angry red burns where the metal had burned holes in his shirt and pressed against his skin.

Okay, so _definitely_ _not_ a normal fever.

Verity quickly removed all of the metal—his bracers, his belts, even the bracelet she had given him—hissing quietly when the hot metal burned her fingers. She tossed the metal pieces to the floor, and Loki scrabbled at her hands and she started to bat him away until she felt the ice cubes between his fingers. She took them, relishing the coolness on her burns, and Loki smiled weakly at her, green peeking through his squinted eyes.

“Sorry,” he mouthed.

“What happened?” she asked, pushing his hair back. He wasn’t wearing his horns. After a quick glance around, she found the diadem discarded across the room.

“That… dream,” Loki managed to grunt. “ _Curse_. Made the nightmare manifest physically.” His voice cracked and he groaned. “Fuck.”

“A curse? Are you sure?” How was she supposed to deal with a curse? It just looked like he had a bad dream and a worse fever. A fever that made him so hot it heated up the metal on his clothes and burned his skin… “What should I do?”

He only moaned, his eyes closing again, and Verity bit her lip.

“Should I call Thor?” she asked quietly.

“No,” Loki moaned again. “He can’t help.”

Half a lie. Thor probably _could_ help; Loki just didn’t want him there. Or the other way around. Verity had no idea what to do. She wasn’t well-versed in magic and Loki wasn’t giving her any hints. He didn’t do well with heat in the first place; a fever must be unbearable. She was about to call Thor anyway when Loki flung out an arm.

“My dresser,” he said. “Jar. Third drawer.”

Verity got it for him. It was a gray glass jar with raised runes around the edge. Loki took it and struggled to open it with stiff, shaking hands, but before Verity could help, he got it open. Then he felt around his hip and groaned.

“My knife,” he said.

“What are you—”

“Give me my knife.”

She would have to ask questions later. She retrieved his belt from the floor and pulled a short knife from its sheath. He took it from her and then shakily gripped the blade with his left hand and cut his palm. Verity gasped again and he hissed, dropped the knife, and fumbled with the jar cradled against his chest. Then Verity watched with nauseous horror as he squeezed his blood into the jar.

 _This_. _This_ is why she really hated magic sometimes.

He shifted, gripping the lid of the jar in his bloody hand, and rolled to his knees so that he was bent over them, his forehead pressed into the sheets.

“Stand back,” he said through his clenched jaw, and Verity quickly scrambled off the bed. Loki muttered something guttural and then shouted out hoarsely and convulsed as black smoke began to seep out of his cut and spiral into the jar. Verity took a step forward automatically, reaching out.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, his face twisted by agony, and Verity froze. Loki grunted and tried to push the lid back onto the jar of blood and smoke, like trying to force two magnets together. The smoke seemed to fill the jar and expand outward around the edge of the lid, but it was _smoke_ ; it’s not like it could push _back_.Verity wished she could help, but he had warned her away, and this was _magic,_ so she stayed put, watching powerlessly as he struggled against the smoke. If it weren’t for the circumstances, the scene would look a bit absurd.

Loki grunted once more and crammed the lid onto the jar, and all at once the tension drained out of his shoulders. He fell back onto his side, panting and clutching the closed jar in his bloodied hands. Verity took a tentative step and when he didn’t stop her, she sat down on the bed and slowly reached out to caress his forehead with the tips of her fingers. He was still very hot.

“Is it gone?” she asked.

“In here,” he said hoarsely, tapping the jar with the tip of a finger. All of the polish on his nails was chipped. “I’ll have to dispose of this later.”

“Rest for now,” said Verity. “You’re still really hot.”

“Why, thank you,” he joked weakly, but Verity didn’t feel much like laughing. Loki shifted, uncurling a little and winced. “It’ll go away. Ice, please?”

“We should wrap your hand, too.” Verity stood and went to the kitchen to refill the glass. While she was sat it, she made some ice packs with Ziploc bags and refilled all of the ice trays. If Loki was cramping with all that heat, he would need them.

When she returned with the ice, Loki was on his back, cradling his hand on his chest, and the jar was on the bedside table, filled with gently swirling smoke and covered in blood. Verity left the glass and ice packs for him and went to the bathroom to find the bandages and some disinfectant, but she only found gauze, cloth wraps, and some bottles covered in foreign writing.

Hoping that gods couldn’t get infections, Verity took the wraps and went back to the bedroom. Loki had covered himself in ice packs, one on his forehead and one on his abdomen, and the water glass was drained again. Verity took his injured hand and started to dab the blood away. It had already stopped bleeding, but the cut was still deep and sensitive. Loki hissed when Verity used an ice cube to help wash away the blood, but other than that, he didn’t complain.

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Verity, wrapping the cloth bandages around his palm.

“Exactly,” said Loki. His eyes were closed under the ice pack. “Hell.”

“Don’t play games,” she snapped. “You’ve been gone for two months. And then you come back a wreck like this—It isn’t funny.”

Loki grunted. “I told you I was going out.”

“For two months?”

“Not intentionally. I needed information.”

“About _what_?”

He groaned. “Can I explain when my head _isn’t_ on fire?”

“Fine,” she bit out, tying off the bandage roughly. Loki grunted, so she set his hand more gently on the bed and picked up his knife. The bed clothes underneath it were stained with blood. She wiped down the knife and tried to blot the blood stains with ice and extra bandages, but the spot would definitely need a deeper clean.

“When you feel better,” said Verity slowly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” said Verity quietly. She finished cleaning his knife and slid it back into the sheath. She felt a little sick. Too much blood and terror and not enough food. She pushed herself up from the bed and gathered the supplies and water glass. “You need a bath. Desperately.”

Loki snorted and then winced. “ _Thanks_.”

“And then food,” she suggested.

“Not hungry,” he murmured.

“Still.” She was. “I’ll start the water. Try to sit up.”

“Make it cold,” he said.

Verity wasn’t sure if that was wise, so she filled the tub with lukewarm water as a compromise. She tidied up the bedroom, throwing Loki’s socks into the laundry basket and setting his boots in the closet, while Loki lay on the bed apparently dozing. She couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed, even though he was sick and injured, but she hated that after disappearing for _months_ he came back that way.

“Wake up,” she said, pushing his shoulder to jostle him awake. He groaned and shifted, and Verity sighed and slid an arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. He pulled at his shirt blindly and leaned forward to try to wriggle out of it, but he got stuck and Verity had to yank it off him.

“Where would you be without me?” muttered Verity, balling up the damp shirt and throwing it to the laundry basket. It bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. Oh well. It was probably garbage-bound anyway.

“Dead, probably,” said Loki, slumping against her. He was like a furnace. A very smelly furnace. “Thought I might already be dead yesterday. Would’ve been nice, but _no_ , the curse had to keep me _alive_ through all that… Couldn’t just kill me outright…”

Verity froze in trying to peel off his pants, which were stuck tight with sweat. “Wait. When did you get back?” she asked hesitantly.

Loki thought for a moment. “I think the sun rose twice,” he muttered. “But that could have been madness setting in.”

Two days. Maybe three. No, not three. She had been in the apartment in the afternoon three days ago. She must have just missed him. A rock settled in Verity’s stomach. God, he had been lying here, feverish and delirious, for days. The rock turned into magma, and she nearly growled aloud. He was _lucky_ that she had not stopped visiting to water his plants after he disappeared.

“Stand up,” she snapped. “I can’t believe you let yourself get like this.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice,” he mumbled, but he moved himself to the edge of the bed so he could flop his legs over the side. Verity let him put an arm over her shoulders, but she hoped he wouldn’t depend too much on her ability to hold him up. Loki swayed on his feet and when he tried to take a step, his knees buckled. Verity strained to keep him upright until he found his balance and they slowly made their way to the bathroom, where Verity made him turn and grip the sink so she could strip him of his pants.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked. “Or anyone. For help.”

“If I could have, I would have,” said Loki, and while Verity folded up his pants, something splashed into the bathtub. She turned and saw that Loki had thrown a bag of ice into the water. “Coming in and out of that dream… only not really ever out, because, you know, _curse_ … Couldn’t think straight. As it was, I only even thought of the jar because you mentioned Thor.” Verity helped him move to the tub, then to sit on the edge, and then he finally lowered himself into the cold water. Verity shivered just to think about it.

“Don’t pass out underwater,” said Verity. “I’m gonna get food.”

Loki hummed his acknowledgment and slid deeper into the water until his chin was submerged, and Verity dared to leave him alone for a few minutes. She went back into the bedroom and stripped the bed of its soiled cover, then grabbed the laundry basket. She carried it into the kitchen and ran the blood stain under the cold tap until it was faint. Still there, but faint. It might come out in the wash if she hurried.

She took the laundry downstairs to the building’s machines and put everything in on a cold cycle and set a timer on her phone before heading back to heat up the abandoned take-out. It was only when she was seated on the couch and eating that she realized her hands were shaking and then that she was crying.

Two months. He had disappeared for long periods of time before, but never this long without contact, and he had _certainly_ not come back shaking and sweating. And she had seen him thrown out a window, for fuck’s sake, so why was seeing him hurt like this making her heart ache? After the first two weeks of no messages—not even a _sighting_ , and hadn’t the Young Avengers been on the lookout?—she had been worried, and then angry, because _God damn it_ , this wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to leave.

So, _fuck_ , she was _so glad_ he was back, but not like this. Not in pain and pushing her away and right when she was…

She heard a splash and then retching and coughing. Verity quickly shoveled the rest of the take-out into her mouth and forced herself to swallow against the thickness of her throat. She wiped her eyes on a paper towel and hoped her glasses would conceal most of the mess.

The toilet flushed, and by the time she made it to the bathroom, Loki was sitting on the edge of the tub again, facing the wall. He pulled the plug in the bath and turned on the shower head.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat to cover, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Hot,” he croaked. The floor was covered with water from a quick vacation of the bath, but Verity ignored it and walked over to grab the shower head. The water was freezing and Verity started to reach for the hot water knob, but Loki grabbed her wrist. His hand was warm, too warm, and Verity looked down at the dirty water rapidly draining away and wondered if it was possible for someone to heat a tub with their own body heat.

She abandoned the idea that hot water was going to happen and helped Loki rinse off under the cold stream, running her fingers through his stringy hair to dislodge the grime.

“D’you think I could go join the polar bear club?” murmured Loki.

“I think it’s almost June,” Verity told him. “You’d be hard pressed to find a frozen lake right now.”

“I turned a whole street to ice cream once, you know.”

“I remember. I was thirteen. It was like a dream.”

“Ah.”

“Until everything started melting.”

A pause. “Ah.” He reached up and placed his hand on her wrist, lowering the showerhead slightly. She met his dull, tired green eyes and he said, “I’m sorry.”

Now she felt bad. “I lied,” she told him. “I wasn’t there. I just saw it on the news.”

He smiled weakly. “…Ah.” He huffed out a weak chuckle. “You shouldn’t lie, Verity Willis. It’ll rot your teeth. Right out of your head.”

That he was teasing her was a good sign that he felt better, but she couldn’t stop the guilt rising up in her stomach.

She was going to have to tell him about Matt.

* * *

 

Verity awoke with her fingers entwined with Loki’s. Their hands were sweaty; he was still feverish but noticeably cooler than the night before. Verity sat up slowly and shivered even though she was under blankets she didn’t remember wrapping herself in. The air conditioner whooshed violently; he must have turned it on in the middle of the night and thrown the blankets over her. He had also taken off his shirt, only wearing shorts now. Verity reached over to lay the back of her hand on his forehead. Still warm, but the fever was fading. She wondered if he could take care of himself today.

First things first. Verity slid out of bed and checked her phone. Matt hadn’t texted a second time—he was patient like that—but she couldn’t leave him hanging for too long.

 _Hey, sorry I didn’t respond_ , she typed. _A friend got back into town last night and he’s really sick. I’m not sure about Friday. I’ll get back to you?_

She dressed and double checked the ice trays, and she considered turning off the air conditioning, but eventually wrote it off as a loss. He would just turn it back on again. It was _his_ electric bill.

She didn’t want to leave without saying anything, but Loki was still passed out, so she wrote a note and left it near the jar still sitting on the night stand. It looked gruesome, and Verity tried not to think about what was inside. She hesitated at the door, glancing back at where Loki lay sprawled out on the bed. His breathing was shallower than usual and he had a small knot between his eyebrows. But he was okay. As an afterthought, she put his fully charged phone in his good hand, just in case.

“I’ll be back later,” she whispered, because she felt compelled to, even if he couldn’t hear, and then she left for work.

She was distracted all day. Even well-meaning, concerned texts from Matt—“ _is your friend okay?_ ”and “ _that sucks. i hope he feels better”_ and “ _lol what are you his mother?”_ —didn’t help ease her anxiety, though it did remind her that she should tell America and the others that they could stop looking for Loki. She stopped herself before she could shoot out a mass text though, because it occurred to her that, as long as Loki was incapacitated, it might be better that he wasn’t officially back. Verity trusted the Young Avengers, but Loki might not appreciate others knowing he was ill. That might even be part of the reason he didn’t call anyone, the proud asshole—besides the low battery on his phone and an inability to think rationally.

In the end, she decided to tell America first. Her reply came when Verity was on the train.

_Well good to know he’s not dead. Can’t believe he didn’t call you. What a flake._

Loki was in the kitchen when Verity arrived. She could hear him rummaging around, even though there was no food, besides an old bag of granola, some instant ramen, and half an industrial-sized box of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. He had frozen vegetables, but a lot of those had been sacrificed to his fever last night. Verity didn’t think frozen peas could taste very good, but he had refused to have them heated up.

“I got you some groceries,” said Verity, walking into the kitchen. She dropped the shopping bags on the kitchen counter, and Loki turned from the cupboard at the sound.

“Thanks,” he said somewhat belatedly. There were purple bags under his eyes, and Verity was suddenly very glad that she hadn’t announced his return to the whole world.

“Are you feeling _any_ better?” Verity asked, as Loki began to sift through the groceries.

“Hmm? Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder.

Verity reached up to check his temperature, but he swatted her hand away. She started despite herself, and Loki pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shit. Sorry.” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I… I had that dream again.”

“But… you didn’t feel anything, right? The curse is gone?”

He nodded, still covering his eyes with a hand. “Yeah. It’s just…” But he didn’t continue.

“Where did you go?” she asked. “And how did you even get cursed—”

“Thor’s unworthy.”

She froze, but he still didn’t look at her.

“Um… What?” she asked.

“Of Mjolnir. Something happened, and… he can’t… He can’t pick it up,” he explained, speaking to the grocery bag. “So I was—I heard about it, and I found him and… But he didn’t want to see me.”

Oh. _That’s_ why he didn’t want Thor there.

“So I left him and went to go get… information. About other stuff. But the possible informant… I pissed this demon off and…”

He seemed to be struggling with the words, so Verity placed her hand gently on his arm.

“Okay,” she said, because she could put two and two together. “I get it. And then the demon cursed you and made the pain in your dream real?” He nodded. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? It’s coming more often now.” He nodded again. “Okay.” He never explained in much detail what actually _happened_ in the dream—he didn’t remember much, just that there was a snake and something about “burning”—and it wasn’t going to help his head to try to talk about it now. She reached around him to drag the groceries closer to her and began to sort through them. “How’s your hand? Did you eat anything today, or—”

“Hey.” He grabbed her wrist and his eyes were tired and sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… be gone for so long.”

His hand wasn’t too hot anymore; he seemed more worn out than sick. The air conditioning wasn’t on either. Verity put her hand to his forehead and this time he let her. The fever was gone.

“I have to tell you something,” she said.

“Okay.”

Verity bit her lip. Out with it, then. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Withheld information was still a lie. “I’ve started to see someone,” she said.

Loki stared at her blankly, like the new information wasn’t registering. She waited for a reaction, but all she got was an inflectionless, “Oh.”

She waited a little longer and then tried again. “Just recently. His name is Matt. I thought you should know.” Still nothing. “Loki?”

Loki shook himself and his gaze cleared, though his expression remained carefully blank. “Oh,” he said again, and then after a pause only slightly shorter than the first: “Who is he?”

“He’s a computer programmer. We met at a conference at the university.” Just telling him the facts. Verity felt like a robot, stiff and cold.

“That’s—” Loki began, but stopped himself. “How long?” he asked instead, in a hesitant high pitch.

“A few weeks,” she replied, and then the ice cracked. “You were gone for a long time and I didn’t hear anything, so I—I was really worried about you, but—He was just really genuine, you know? And I was—”

Loki raised a hand to cut off her defensive onslaught, his face still a careful blank. Verity felt ill.

“It’s okay,” he said.

It wasn’t.

He smiled weakly. “We made a deal, Verity. I have no right to complain.”

Yes, he did.

Loki started to turn and walk out of the kitchen and Verity grabbed his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you mad?”

“No.”

He was.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged again. “I was gone. You aren’t bound only to me. We’re still friends.” He took her hands and smiled. “Right?”

Yes. Oh thank God, yes. Verity nodded numbly.

“Good,” said Loki, and he patted her hands and then let go. “That’s all that matters.”

Oh, thank God.

She still felt terrible.

* * *

 

It had been one of the things that had come up when they were negotiating the terms of their marriage. Loki kept joking that Verity could only date someone if he approved of them, that suitors had to come to him first and request his permission to date her, that they needed to go through a formal interview and several extensive and invasive tests, but she made it clear that even joking about that would be inappropriate.

Conduct _within_ their marriage during extramarital relationships was the next discussion. Loki didn’t take that very seriously either.

“Fuck who you want,” he had said flippantly. “I don’t care.”

“Yes, but _they_ might,” she told him. “ _They_ might not be too keen on dating a woman who is married to another man and _fucking_ said other man.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“No, we need to talk about it _now_ before it becomes a problem,” she said, tapping a stern finger on the table, where all of Verity’s notes were spread out. (Loki didn’t have notes; he only had jokes and lewd drawings and one sheet of paper on which he’d written: “Be married to me. #ido #gotlucky #lokity5eva”)

“Like I said, then,” he said, “fuck who you want. Seriously,” he added when she sighed in exasperation. “If you want to commit to someone else, go ahead. I’ll just be here, being married to you. All I ask is for three years.”

“Okay, but that means I won’t be fucking _you_ if I commit to someone else,” she reminded him. “Just so we’re clear.”

Loki abruptly stood up and swept the papers off the kitchen table with one hand, and for a moment Verity was afraid she’d made him angry, but then she looked up and saw his smirk.

“As long as you fuck me _right now_ ,” he said, eyeing her hungrily, “then that’s fine with me.”

And that had been the end of _that_ discussion, until approximately half a year after their marriage.

* * *

 

Loki woke her up when he slid his hand across her stomach.

“Sorry,” he whispered when she stirred. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Verity sighed. “So you were just gonna feel me up in my sleep?” she muttered, groaning groggily.

“You’re so far away.”

“You’ve been a walking furnace for three days,” she reminded him. “It’s almost summer.”

“Jeez, out of the frying pan…” He pulled Verity closer anyway. At least he was back to a normal temperature. He had been weak and delirious all evening, with a headache that Verity briefly worried was brain damage, but the worst had passed, and Loki insisted his body would heal itself.

Verity let him play big spoon and tangle his fingers in hers, but when he placed a kiss on her neck, she moved away. She knew he was still too exhausted to try anything, but boundaries had to be put in place.

“Loki, I’m with someone now, remember?” she said.

For a moment, Loki didn’t move or say anything. “I thought I hallucinated that,” he said at last, quietly.

Verity frowned. “You were hallucinating?”

“Possibly. _You_ didn’t happen to see a magpie flying around, did you?”

“Well, you weren’t hallucinating what I said.”

“Oh.” His arm lifted slightly. “Unless I’m also hallucinating now?” he ventured.

“No.”

Loki withdrew his arm, and Verity sighed and turned to face him.

“You and I have— _had_ —an open relationship,” she explained. “Matt and I don’t.”

Loki frowned. “So… What? You’re choosing him?”

Verity scoffed. “That’s not fair. My point is, if we _were_ going to pick up where we left off, that I’d have to ask him first.”

“ _Ask_ him?” Loki almost sounded appalled. “ _He’s_ the other man.”

“That’s how it would have to work. I believe I already had _your_ permission.”

She could already hear his retort running through his head, so she countered it before he could speak. “And _I’m_ not going to lie and be a cheater. I know how it feels. I’m not going to do that to him.”

Loki searched her face, probably looking for a weakness, but she had thought about this before she had signed the marriage documents. If she was going to be allowed to have extramarital relationships to supplement the fact that _this_ probably wasn’t long-term, then they had to be real.

“So it’s serious then,” said Loki.

Verity shrugged a corner of her lips. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want Loki to dismiss her new relationship either. What kind of precedent would that set?

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “It’s new. We’ll see what happens.”

“But you like him.”

“He’s genuine.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except he pretends to know the music I like. I wish he’d just admit he has no idea what he’s talking about.”

Loki smiled. “Verity, _no one_ knows the music you like.”

Verity rolled her eyes. “You do.”

“That’s only because you force me to listen to it,” he said, grinning. “If it were up to me, we’d blast Daft Punk constantly. Maybe some Björk.”

“Shut up.”

Loki giggled, but it trailed off into a more somber silence after a moment, and a knot formed in Verity’s stomach. She wanted to say something, to maybe ask if he was all right, but she couldn’t, and eventually Loki turned away. She wanted to reach out to him, to assure him that nothing had _really_ changed, that they were still friends and legally married and besides physical intimacy their relationship would stay the same, but before she could get the words out, she realized that was a lie.

* * *

 

She hadn’t told Matt about her power. In her experience, telling people made them nervous around her, like she was always going to catch them in the middle of a lie, regardless of whether they were lying or not. If they didn’t understand how it worked, people even told _more_ lies. It was a rather intimidating power to be confronted with. People lied all the time, involuntarily and without realizing it. To be forced to confront that fact… Well, for someone who _hadn’t_ lived their entire life acknowledging that particular truth, it could be overwhelming. Someone had even once accused Verity of violating their privacy.

So Verity avoided that headache and just didn’t tell him. Not straight out, anyway. When he fibbed or embellished, she called him out—gently. Verity had learned a long time ago that certain situations required _tact_.

It could be draining to have to be so careful. To conceal her annoyance. Sometimes she craved silence, just to block out the inevitable lies.

But Matt was nice. Talkative and somewhat enamored with fiction (that’s what she got for going to a _nerd_ conference, America told her, even though it was for _work_ ), but he was also a firm believer in honesty.

“It’s a cliché, but honesty is the best policy,” he told her, in the bar where they had migrated after dinner, even though it was Friday and crowded, and Verity had mixed feelings about _that_ particular proverb.

“While I’m inclined to agree with you, I feel like I have to point out your hypocrisy,” she said, sipping her beer. “What’s honest about all those romantic comedies you watch?”

“I don’t _only_ watch romantic comedies, Ver, jeez,” he said with a grin. “You’re making it out like I’m a pleb. All forms of media hold some truth. It’s just about figuring out what it’s trying to say.”

She’d heard this spiel before. “Yeah, all right, but it’s still all bull shit to me.”

“That’s ‘cause your literary education was poor,” he says, smirking. “And apparently your childhood. You really _never_ liked Disney movies?”

Verity gave Matt an impatient look, but he continued to look expectant behind his half-moon glasses. He called them his “Dumbledore specs” and always sighed when the reference went over her head. Loki might have gotten it, but the appeal of Harry Potter had always been lost on her.

“Again: Bull shit,” she told him.

He sighed and reached across their table to take her hands. “Ver, I know you have this whole hipster rep to maintain,” he said, smiling as though to soften the blow, “but it’s okay to enjoy Disney. Unironically or otherwise.” Verity sighed. Of course it was _okay_ ; she just _couldn’t_.

“Disney warps the original stories, though,” he continued. “Did you know the little mermaid is actually supposed to die? Dark shit.”

She did, actually; when the cleaned-up versions of stories were not enough for her, she had often tried the source material. It was only more of the same.

He went on about some other fairy tales from which Disney appropriated material, but Verity stopped listening because when she tipped her head to take another drink, something caught her eye. Or rather, _someone_.

She was impossible to miss, sitting at the bar with wavy black hair and a cocktail dress that drew eyes from across the room. She was tall and something about her felt otherworldly, the way Asgardians tended to feel. Verity watched her, waiting for her to turn so she could see her face. Didn’t Sif have black hair, too? It could be Sif. Except Sif rarely spent time in New York and Verity was pretty sure Sif didn’t wear that much green and…

The woman flipped her hair over her shoulder and her gold bracelet caught the light.

“Excuse me a second,” said Verity, pushing her stool away from the table. She hardly heard Matt’s response as she strode over to where the woman sat at the bar talking to the man next to her. Verity stopped behind her and crossed her arms. The man noticed Verity first and frowned, which made the woman finally turn around.

God _damn_ it.

For a moment, Loki only looked confused, and then she beamed. “Verity!” she said with a _very_ false-surprised smile. “What a coincidence!”

“What are you doing?” hissed Verity.

“I’m sure I can’t know what you mean,” said Loki demurely.

“Is this your friend?” asked the man, leaning over to take in Verity rather overtly. Gross.

Verity ignored him. “We need to talk,” she said, leveling a glare at Loki.

Loki sighed, but Verity could see the self-satisfied curl at the corners of her lips. She turned to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder while she slid off her bar stool. “I’ll be right back,” she purred.

Verity scoffed and dragged Loki by the arm toward the restrooms, stopping them near the back wall of the bar. Loki pulled her arm out of Verity’s grip, pouting slightly.

“What?” she said, impatiently, as though she didn’t know _exactly what_.

“Are you _following_ me?” demanded Verity.

“No,” said Loki, and then qualified when Verity crossed her arms: “I wanted a drink. I merely chose this bar based on its proximity to your respective apartments and personal taste. I couldn’t have known you would _actually_ be here.”

“That is so—” Verity struggled with words for a moment, grasping at the air. “Creepy,” she decided. “It’s creepy.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Well, _you’re_ the one who interrupted my conversation with that nice man.”

Verity clenched her fists. She couldn’t argue with that, though she was sure _that_ was part of Loki’s manipulations. “So, you’re, what? Trolling for other creeps?”

She shrugged. “Thought I’d take my chances. I mean, have you looked at me?” she asked with a conspiratorial grin. “I am _hot_. Can’t let all this go to waste. And your friend over there doesn’t look too bad himself. You should introduce us.”

Verity glared at her. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Perhaps it might keep me out of trouble if…”

“No.”

Loki pouted her lips. “You’re no fun. Guess I’ll just have to enjoy myself with that gentleman at the bar…”

Verity stared at her. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Are you trying to make me _jealous_?”

Loki scoffed and crossed her arms, but then she pursed her lips and after a moment met Verity’s eyes. “…Is it working?”

Verity rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Loki. Let him down easy.”

Loki sighed, and Verity started to walk away. “I might fuck him anyway,” Loki said quickly, and Verity stopped to give her an exasperated look. Loki shrugged. “He’s pretty cute,” she said. Then she looked over Verity’s shoulder and smiled and wiggled her fingers. Verity glanced back at the bar. The man waved at them.

Verity turned back to Loki. “Go for it,” she said coolly. Loki’s smile faded and she looked away. “You started this, you know,” Verity blurted, feeling angry and spiteful. “ _You_ left.”

Loki’s gaze snapped back up. “You’re still angry about that?”

“ _Yes_. And you’ve hardly explained where you even went, but whatever,” Verity sneered, “I guess you have your secrets.”

Loki glared at her. “Verity, I’ve told you… _everything_ ,” she said, voice low and angry.

“So, what? You _own_ me now?” Verity demanded. “Because you’ve told me your whole life story, that means I can’t have my own life? And by the way, you _haven’t_ ,” she added before Loki could interrupt. “You _haven’t_ told me everything. There’s still something you’re hiding from me, but you know what? That doesn’t matter, because we are allowed to have our own goddamn lives.”

Loki’s lip curled up in a snarl, but she couldn’t argue. Because it was true. Verity wasn’t going to hold it against her—because _whatever_ , she could keep her _secrets_ —but that it was there at all _proved_ that Loki wanted to keep something to herself, and it was only fair that Verity should be able to as well.

Verity huffed and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Maybe it’s a good thing we’re taking a break,” she muttered.

For a moment, Loki’s snarl deepened, and then she blinked and the glare in her eyes turned to confusion. “What?”

“This weird codependence thing we have—” she began.

Loki stared at her in disbelief. “Are you… _breaking up with me_?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” snapped Verity. “ _No_. We’re just _friends_.”

“Friend break-up, then,” said Loki, rolling her eyes. “This sounds like every break-up speech from every teen drama ever.”

Verity scoffed. “You watch too much TV.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Verity threw up her hands. “I’m _saying_ , I want something that is _mine_. Something that won’t fall apart if _you_ decide to skip town again.”

“I told you I was sorry!” she argued. “I hadn’t planned to be away for so long.”

“Yeah, well, you were,” Verity snapped. “And I had to find someone else to help me pick up the pieces.”

“What _pieces_?” asked Loki, incredulously.

“You fucking disappeared!” she shouted, and several people glanced in their direction and her eyes began to sting. “What was I supposed to think? You could have been _dead_.”

“Oh, so, you just, what, moved on?” Loki sneered. “You mourned and waited for two months before jumping into someone else’s bed?”

“I was still waiting for you!” she said, and she didn’t care anymore if she was shouting. “I was going to wait for you forever! Because, God damn it, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you!”

The sneer slipped off Loki’s face, replaced by surprise. She blinked and then looked away, and even though the lights were dim, Verity thought she could see a flush bloom across Loki’s face.

“And yet, _he’s_ there,” she muttered, glancing in the direction of Matt.

Verity sighed. “Yes. He is. And he’s not going anywhere. But more importantly, neither am I.” She reached out and grabbed Loki’s hands. “I’m not… _breaking up with you_. I don’t want to. You’re important to me, too. But seriously? This is too much. I need space.”

Loki gently pulled her hands away. “It still sounds like you’re breaking up with me.”

Verity sighed. “Then think of it that way. Whatever. Go fuck that guy and call me when you’re ready to be friends again.”

Hurt flashed in Loki’s expression, but Verity turned away, determined not to give in. She started across the bar, forcing herself not to look back, and went back to Matt, who looked perplexed.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair.

“Why?” asked Matt. “Who is that? Do you know her?”

“She’s a friend,” said Verity.

“Why don’t you introduce us?” he asked, craning his neck over the crowd to look for Loki.

“Not while she’s drunk,” Verity found herself pleading. She really didn’t want to talk about the fight they just had. How would she explain it? “Can we just please go?”

Matt frowned, but he nodded, and Verity rushed him out before Loki could approach them. Just as she was going through the bar door, Verity caught sight of Loki talking to the man again, and she would _never_ admit to _anyone_ that she felt a twist in her gut.

* * *

 

Jealousy was unbecoming on anyone. It had been a little over a month since she and Matt started to see each other, and she was surprised that _jealousy_ , of all things, might be the bane of their relationship. Usually it was lies about something or a truth coming to light, or both. When Loki had revealed everything to her and promptly disappeared, she thought _that_ , too, was the end of a relationship, though theirs was purely platonic at that time. He was the first one that had returned after such a break. The first one she had accepted back, anyway.

So this was new. Jealousy. She was determined to keep it from ruining everything.

Regardless, Verity adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and knew that she was failing to conceal her anxiety. This was a terrible idea. Just terrible.

But Matt had asked to meet Loki and Verity didn’t think it was fair to tell him no. This jealousy thing… It had to stop. If she introduced her best friend to her boyfriend, maybe they could all stop asking probing questions. (“Yeah, but he’s your _best friend_ now?” and “So, have you finished with whatshisface—Mal?—yet?” and “Loki, who is that man on the sofa, and why is he wearing your Iron Man boxers?”)

She wasn’t sure whose behavior worried her most. She worried about Matt’s reaction to Loki as her former lover and current best friend, and Loki… They had made up weeks ago, when he called her with apologies and a hint of desperation (“I’m sorry, you’re right, I want to be friends, just friends, that’s fine, please, I need you”), and the truth was, she felt the same way. So everything was okay, and he promised to be on his best behavior, but Verity didn’t have high expectations on that front. Loki’s best behavior didn’t often match others’ ideas of “best” or even “behavior.” He offered to take them both out to dinner, though, which was both a relief and somewhat unsettling. It was unlikely that he would make a scene—he _had_ to know that would piss her off—but with every hint he had been dropping, Verity was afraid he might consider this a _date_.

“Is this the right place?” asked Matt dubiously, and Verity looked up. They had reached the restaurant Loki chose: a French place with a name Verity was afraid to try to pronounce. She had argued it was _too_ fancy, but Loki insisted on it, because he’d been wanting to try it anyway. And he was paying so what was she worried about?

Verity took a deep breath. “Yeah, this is it.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Your… friend has expensive taste.”

Verity prayed for patience and led the way inside. She gave the maître d’ the name Loki made the reservation under. Thankfully, it _wasn’t_ Harry Styles; he wouldn’t be doing _that_ again.

The maître d’ showed them into the restaurant and to the table where Loki was already waiting for them, wearing a blue dress shirt, almost like a normal human being. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, examining a wine menu, but when he looked up to see them approaching the table, he straightened and then stood, all in one fluid motion, friendly smile in place.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, holding out a hand so naturally that Verity took it without thinking. He kissed her hand and grinned at her when she pulled away slightly. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” she said, stammering a little and brushing some hairs that had strayed from her bun behind her ear, and she stepped to the side to introduce Matt. “This is Matt. Matt, this is Loki.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” said Matt, offering his hand. Loki looked at it for a second too long, and Verity hoped that he wasn’t going to kiss Matt’s hand too, because for that second he seemed to be considering it, but then he just shook Matt’s hand casually.

“There’s not many who would say that,” said Loki with a smirk. “Verity has told you who I am, has she not?”

“What matters most to me is that you’re her friend,” said Matt. He didn’t know Loki was _that_ Loki, and she had given him no encouragement to think so. People named their kids weird things all the time. Hopefully Loki would play along. “And she talks about you a lot,” he added, lying.

“Does she?” asked Loki, raising an eyebrow as he moved to pull out Verity’s chair for her. Verity rolled her eyes at him and sat down. When Matt took his seat, he didn’t seem to notice that Loki did the same for him. “I hope she’s told you nothing so flattering that I might not meet your expectations.”

“I told him you’re an asshole,” muttered Verity.

Loki chuckled as he sat down and then leaned back, smirking. “Then we’re all on the same page. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine.”

“As long as it’s red, we’re good,” said Matt.

“Right,” agreed Loki, nodding. “Whites are for Team Edward.”

Verity frowned. “What?”

“Oh no,” said Loki, looking serious. “Don’t tell me _you’re_ Team Edward, Verity.”

“The English king?”

“Twilight, Verity. _Twilight_.”

She scoffed. “Please don’t tell _me_ you read that garbage.”

“I _watched_ that garbage,” Loki told her. “It is complete trash, ten out of ten million stars, would recommend to only my worst enemies.” He paused thoughtfully. “Which team are _you_ on?” he asked Matt.

“It’s, uh, not my thing,” said Matt, evidently missing the subtext.

“And what, pray tell, _is_ your thing?”

Verity resisted the urge to groan and cover her face with a hand, but luckily, Matt unknowingly steered the conversation to safer waters: video games. Their wine arrived, Loki ordered food for them, and Verity began to relax as the topic _stayed_ on video games, something even she could engage with. Loki bragged about hacking some computer games to implement his own mods, and Matt told him about the time he tried to play _Amnesia: The Dark Descent_ with Verity and was scared out of his wits while Verity seemed totally unaffected. She hadn’t been able to explain to him _why_ it didn’t scare her—one, it wasn’t real, and two, she had seen crazier things through Loki’s camera phone—so Matt ended up thinking she was fearless, which was all right by her.

“Verity’s a tough bitch,” said Loki with a lazy grin. Verity smirked back at him over her wine glass.

It was going well. No hiccups so far, and Loki seemed to be behaving. That is, until they were halfway through their meal and a few glasses of wine in and Loki began to flirt.

“Have you, uh, ever been to PAX?” asked Matt, fidgeting a little. Loki kept lightly running his foot up Verity’s leg, and she had the sneaking suspicion he was doing the same to Matt. Loki was pointedly ignoring her glares and leaning toward Matt with his chin in his hand and the slightest smirk on his face.

“Not yet,” said Loki. “I’ve been concentrating my efforts on other cons. How is it?”

“Well, it’s a good way to see what everyone in the industry is up to,” said Matt. “And you can play test upcoming games and stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” said Loki, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “I’ve got a few things in mind to play test.”

Verity whipped her head around to glare at him fully, but he ignored her.

Matt raised an eyebrow slowly. “Uh… You mean games?”

“Sure,” Loki purred, and Verity kicked him under the table, hard. He gave no indication besides a blink that he even felt it, and Matt glanced at Verity, frowning. She pursed her lips and tried to smile apologetically.

Matt glanced back and forth at the two of them and then cleared his throat. “I’ll just… Excuse me.” He stood up, paused, then leaned down to kiss Verity’s cheek, and then he left the table, shooting one last glance at her.

When he was out of sight, Verity leaned over the table. “Stop it,” she hissed.

Loki giggled and Verity tried to kick him again, but he moved his leg and just kept giggling.

“I’m serious,” said Verity. “It isn’t funny. If you continue to treat this like an opportunity to assert your dominance, then we’re leaving.”

“I am doing no such thing,” he said, which was total bull shit.

“We’ve talked about this,” she insisted. “He’s my boyfriend, but you’re my _best friend_. You are _not actually being threatened_. Stop threatening _him_.”

Loki scowled. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning forward. “You can’t be telling me he’s a better fuck than I am.”

“That is _not_ the point.”

Loki leered at her, ready to take full advantage of what he probably thought was a slip, but Verity just rolled her eyes, because it was seriously _not the point_.

“Perhaps, then, we should equalize our relations,” he said, “since we all seem to have the appropriate chemistry.”

“We _don’t_. Note that he isn’t flirting _back_.”

“Come on.” He wasn’t listening. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” He licked his lips and leaned toward her with hooded eyes. “You and me and Max…”

“Matt.”

“We could at least _ask_ …” He ran his foot up her calf again.

“There is no _we_ ,” Verity hissed, tucking her legs under her chair. “I’m with _Matt_ now, and it would be inappropriate for _us_ to suggest it to _him_.”

“Well, then _you_ two can talk about it and suggest it to _me_.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“Yes, _exactly_ ,” said Loki brightly.

“No,” she said firmly. “Stop it.”

He met her glare with a smirk, but after a few seconds, he scowled.

“Fine,” he bit out, sitting back. He picked up his wine glass and drained it.

“Thank you.” Verity drained hers, too, and regretted this whole thing, but she couldn’t think of any way she could have avoided it. Maybe she should have never mentioned Loki. But that would have been a really weird secret to keep, and she was not sure that she could have done it. Especially with Loki hovering over her with the threat that _he_ might expose their relationship to an unsuspecting Matt.

Fuck. She _had_ to make this work.

“I’m sorry,” she said, setting down her glass gently. “I know this is hard.”

Loki shrugged, but he refused to look at her now.

“I want this to work,” she said. “I want to have my cake and eat it, too.”

“That is _terribly_ selfish of you.”

“Maybe.” She glanced around the restaurant. Matt was nowhere in sight; he must still be in the men’s room. Verity reached across the table to put her hand over Loki’s where it was twisting the stem of his empty wine glass.

“You are _very_ important to me, Loki,” she said firmly. “I married you for a reason. That hasn’t changed. But I need you to respect my choices. I need you to respect _me_.”

He finally met her eyes, frowning. A long time ago, he had said he wouldn’t mind if she made commitments to other people. And that had been the truth. Hell, _he_ slept around, and sometimes he tried to play wingperson for her. It never worked out—she never expected it to, and it mostly seemed like a game—but it was an unspoken agreement that their sex lives were open. After they got married, that was still the general policy, though they both sort of just didn’t sleep around. He said it wouldn’t bother him if she did, though. That was part of their agreement.

But that was in theory. In practice, Verity knew, it _did_ bother him. He was a jealous person; she shouldn’t have been surprised. And she didn’t think it was about the sex, because they were still friends, and sex hadn’t always been a factor. But she couldn’t figure out what his problem was.

“Can you do that for me?” she asked quietly. “Respect my right to have this?”

He looked away again, but he turned his hand to hold hers. “I don’t… I don’t understand why you need him.”

“I like him. That’s why. Can you do it?”

He sighed and considered the stem of his wine glass again. “I’ll try,” he said at last.

Verity squeezed his hand once and then gently pulled away. “Thank you.”

Matt came back about a minute later. Their wine glasses were full again and they were quietly picking at their food. Matt sat down with a sigh.

“That, uh… We all good?” he asked.

“Yes,” Loki answered for Verity. “My apologies.”

Matt looked slightly taken aback, and then he smiled. “It’s all right, man. I’m not very comfortable with any of my exes’ dates either.”

“We’re better off as friends,” Loki lied stiffly. At least he was making an effort.

They finished dinner without another incident. Loki toned down the flirting to a normal level (Verity hardly expected him to stop altogether) and managed to keep up a civil conversation, though the tension between him and Matt didn’t dissipate much. They stayed through dessert out of politeness, and after Loki paid the bill (with some protests from Matt, but Loki easily brushed him off) they left the restaurant together. Loki suggested they get drinks, but it was purely a formality. Verity claimed exhaustion and hugged Loki good night, and he didn’t betray her trust by holding on too long. Matt and Loki shook hands again, and Matt clapped him on the shoulder as a final farewell. Luckily, he didn’t see Loki’s expression darken at the casual, dismissive contact. Then they parted ways, and Verity and Matt started toward Matt’s apartment.

“Is he, uh, always like that?” asked Matt with a nervous chuckle.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, groaning. “He flirts with _everyone_. He can’t turn it off.”

“Is that why you guys broke up?”

“We broke up because… he was unreliable,” she said. “I told you he left town and then I met you.”

“Does _he_ know you broke up? ‘Cause he was flirting with you, too.” He paused. “And I got the impression he was trying to work his way up to suggesting a threesome.”

Oh, dear God… “He knows,” she said. “And he knows _that_ is never going to happen.” When Matt was silent, Verity’s stomach dropped. Was Loki _that_ convincing? “Wait, you’re not—”

“No!”

Oh, thank God.

“Look, I’ll admit the guy’s good-looking, but no,” said Matt, shaking his head. “That would be—”

“Totally fucking weird.”

“Yeah.” Matt laughed, relieved. “Good to know. Okay.”

Verity took his hand and he smiled at her, somehow a lot more reassured than he seemed before dinner. She wasn’t sure why; she still felt nervous and a little embarrassed. But maybe it would be all right. Maybe this was necessary. She could make this work.

This was going to work out.

 

* * *

It didn’t work out.

* * *

 

Two and a half months. It had to be a new record. She was so good at this, she deserved a medal. Verity Willis: Driving men away since 1989.

Loki’s apartment door opened. There was a thud as Loki dropped something on the floor near the door, and then his footsteps wandered into the kitchen where he opened the fridge. The hiss of a bottle of beer being opened, the clink of its cap being thrown into the sink. Verity uncurled herself from around the pillow she was clutching and slowly sat up. Fuck, she was an idiot.

Loki moved back into the living room and the TV turned on, blaring barely human voices into the apartment for a few seconds. Then it silenced abruptly.

“Verity?” Loki called uncertainly. Her purse on the sofa must have given her away. She wanted to reply, but she couldn’t get her voice to work, sore as it was from crying all evening. God, crying on her spouse’s bed. Over someone else. It might be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

Loki appeared in the open bedroom door and turned on the lights, but after a second, he flipped the switch again, throwing the room back into a concealing darkness. Verity didn’t dare to look at him, focusing instead on her hands in her lap. She hadn’t worn his ring in weeks, and now she regretted leaving it on her dresser. Maybe she could have been warned beforehand. But no. She was sure the magic only warned of physical harm. She should have known that it would happen eventually anyway.

Why did it always _hurt_ so much?

Loki hesitated in the doorway, and then he slowly entered the room and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. He said nothing, waited, and Verity tried to hold her breath to keep in her sniffles, but she had to breathe eventually. She let out a shuddering breath and blinked. Still Loki said nothing, and he slid his hand into hers. He squeezed once, just sitting with her and holding her hand, and Verity squeezed her eyes shut and then the dam broke. Again.

She hunched forward, trying to hide because it was stupid, so stupid to cry like this over a man who didn’t even want her anymore—if he ever did, because she had never asked. Loki moved his arm around her and leaned in, and Verity accepted the embrace and turned to sob into his shirt.

“Why does it _always_ happen like this?” she cried, finding words at last after a few minutes of just weeping on him.

“What happened?” Loki whispered into her hair.

What always happens. _Always_.

The evening had started normally enough—dinner at Matt’s apartment, typical conversation—but then Matt had wanted to show her a science fiction movie, which was always the _worst_ kind of fiction movie.

“I know you don’t usually like movies,” he said, “but this one is praised by the science community for being pretty accurate—I think some physics graduates made it—and the story is really compelling.”

“I don’t know, Matt,” said Verity, fingering her wine glass. “Sci-fi just really isn’t… my thing.” Movies in general weren’t; it was the actors, all pretending to be someone they weren’t. It was exhausting to watch.

“At least give it a chance,” said Matt, pulling the DVD box from his movie shelf. He examined the back for a moment, and Verity considered humoring him and enduring the movie. Maybe she could even distract him in the middle of it and she wouldn’t have to watch it anymore. Or it could even be like the weird documentaries Loki showed her sometimes and it would be enjoyable. Then she noticed Matt frowning at her.

“You really don’t care,” he said.

“We can try it,” she said. “I just don’t like movies. They’re not _real_.”

“Not everything has to be,” he said, suddenly seeming frustrated.

“I know,” she said, “but it’s just a personal preference.” Matt sighed and Verity bit her lip. “We can watch it if you really want to.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, throwing the box to the floor. “Whatever.”

That surprised her. “What’s wrong?” asked Verity, perplexed.

“Nothing.” A lie.

Verity set down her wine. “Matt, what is it?”

Matt released a frustrated sigh and didn’t look at her. “I just… God, Ver, what do you have against fiction?”

Verity bit her lip. Was she going to have to tell him? She’d had conversations like this before. “I… don’t like being lied to,” she said slowly. “That’s all fiction is. Lies. I like to… I prefer things that are true.”

“What does that even mean?” demanded Matt. “What the hell _is_ true?”

Verity frowned. She didn’t know how to _begin_ to answer that question. Two plus two equals four? The mass of an object is a measure of its energy? Jellyfish don’t have a central nervous system?

But she didn’t have to answer, because Matt sighed and shook his head.

“Whatever,” he said. “I just can’t believe how boring you are sometimes.”

Verity’s insides froze. “Excuse me?” she said, quietly, utterly unable to _dis_ believe _._

“You can never just _enjoy_ anything,” said Matt. “You’re always at this _distance_ , like nothing is real enough for you.”

“Nothing is _real_ enough for me?” Verity repeated, shocked. Then anger boiled up. “I only ever see the real things! You’re the one who insists on living through _lies_ and fiction, rather than just fucking _living_.”

“What?” snapped Matt.

“What the hell is so enjoyable about people pretending?” demanded Verity, standing up from the couch. “What is even the _point_ of that?”

“What, like you never lie?” retorted Matt. She was taken aback by that. She did, a lot actually, but she tried not to. But he couldn’t know that; he didn’t have her power. “I’ve seen the way you and your friend are around each other,” Matt said bitterly. “You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

Verity felt herself flush. “Matt, we’ve talked about this. You _met_ Loki. We’re just friends now.”

Matt snorted. “How likely is that story?”

She stared at him. “You think I’m _cheating_ on you?”

“Maybe.”

Verity sputtered. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Yeah, it is. You know what?” he bit out. “You’re right, I have been pretending. This isn’t working, Ver. You keep me at a distance, but you seem to let your ‘friend’ in just fine, and I’m just… I can’t do it anymore.”

She stared at him, unable to move or breathe, as he continued ranting. She couldn’t hear the words anymore, but it was all true. All of it. He believed every word he was saying.

And she couldn’t even be surprised. Fiction was always at the center of her failings, whether it was someone else’s fictions or her inability to deal with it. Matt was right; she did keep things at a distance. Because she couldn’t _not_.

And this was the way it always ended. They always wanted something more, something she couldn’t give them.

“I’m never enough,” Verity sobbed into Loki’s shirt. “I can’t do enough or be enough or… _fuck_ , connect enough or something. This fucking world and its addiction to fiction…”

“Hey, that rhymed,” Loki joked quietly, but when she didn’t laugh, he dropped the levity. “What did he say?” he asked, his fingers caressing her cheek softly.

“He said…” She sniffled and was loathe to say it aloud, in case it was true. But she already knew. It was. “He thinks I’m boring.”

The silence following this admission was nearly unbearable, but then Loki scoffed indignantly. “Well, he’s _clearly_ an idiot,” said Loki. “You’re not boring at all. You’re full of interesting things. You can name more types of fish than I can count—which, granted, isn’t a lot, because I am notoriously terrible at math—”

Verity coughed out a pitiful laugh, but Loki wasn’t finished.

“You know more about space and even its physics than most beings in the universe can claim to even think about. You can separate truth from lies. You’re smart and practical and beautiful and _interesting_ , and if that ignoramus can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you in all your glory. Not even at _half_ your glory.”

Verity laughed again, and Loki squeezed her shoulders. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Thanks, Loki.”

“It’s all true.”

“I know.”

She sniffled a bit more, and Loki just held her for a while longer.

“You really liked him, didn’t you?” he whispered after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “But I guess he didn’t really like me.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “You know,” he said slowly, “I hear it is the Midgardian custom, on these occasions, to eat ice cream and watch terrible comedies. And you’re in luck, because I believe I still have a pint of Cherry Garcia and the entire Plant Earth DVD boxset.”

Verity smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Get cleaned up, put on some pajamas, and we’ll watch polar bears tear seals apart.”

“Gross. Also, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen,” Verity told him, sitting up.

“I can dream, can’t I? Maybe we’ll Youtube it. And then perhaps tomorrow, we can start on making a new story, rather than relying on dumb old fiction,” he added brightly.

Verity sniffled, but she tried to smile. “You like fiction, too.”

He shrugged. “I also like watching polar bears tear seals apart. My taste counts for little.” He stood and started toward the living room, pausing once in the doorway. “I… I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” he said.

No, he wasn’t. But it was nice of him to say so. Verity gave him a small smile for his effort. “Thanks, Loki.”


	8. The Art of Authenticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lorelei makes some rather insensitive comments, and Loki wonders if genderfluidity bothers Verity. (Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm still not sure about this chapter, but I'm going to put it up anyway, because I don't have a beta reader. Please let me know if anything bothers you. I guess that means you, dear readers, are my beta readers. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Not sure how I should warn about this, but here you go: This chapter contains some transphobia, which I like to think of more as "being a dick," but that's just me.

“He was the first to recognize me, and to love what he saw.”

(Charlotte Brontë, _Jane Eyre_ )

* * *

 

 

“You do know Halloween isn’t until next week, right?”

Loki rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how often I hear that. Accusations of cosplay, too. Are the horns _really_ too much?”

“I think it might be the tits, honey,” said Lorelei, leaning on the desk.

Loki ignored her pointedly and focused on the computer. She and Lorelei had only just (possibly) made up, and this hack was supposed to solidify that. Loki had spent a lot of time and money sending Lorelei souvenirs from her trips around the globe that summer to indicate a forthcoming apology. It wouldn’t do to get into an argument again at this juncture, no matter how obtuse Lorelei might be.

“This job doesn’t really require you to be a lady,” said Lorelei.

“I am a lady,” Loki told her primly, and then switched tactics. “I thought to make you more comfortable.”

Lorelei hummed thoughtfully and then leaned down. “Or else you thought to avoid my enchantment,” she said. Loki hummed back; the thought had crossed her mind. If Lorelei was still angry enough, she might try. Lorelei slid two fingers under Loki’s chin and tilted her head up. “Can you resist me in this form, Trickster?” purred Lorelei.

Nice try. Loki smirked. “Lorelei, did you want me here for my body or for my elite haxor skills?”

Lorelei dropped her hand, looking only mildly disappointed. “That term is outdated.”

Loki shrugged. Says the woman still using the same strategy for centuries, but Loki couldn’t say so now. “Still applies,” she said aloud, turning back to the computer. The CEO’s security was terrible, but it was time consuming to get past it all.

“You spend entirely too much time on the internet,” said Lorelei.

“Which is exactly why you need me,” Loki reminded her with a dazzling smile.

Lorelei laughed. “True enough. I’ll leave you to it.” She hopped off the desk and strolled around the office, trailing her gloved fingers over books and opening drawers. Loki glanced up at her at intervals, but Lorelei wasn’t up to anything; she was just bored. Bored enough to bring up Loki’s form again, even. She had commented when Loki arrived on the agreed upon rooftop and then had seemed to let it go when Loki played dumb. Oh well. Lorelei had pretty rigid ideas about the line between men and women, and Loki’s favorite pastime was straddling lines. Loki supposed it had everything to do with her powers. Anything violating her usual senses would make her uncomfortable. So no, it wasn’t for Lorelei’s comfort that Loki was in female form today.

“Done,” Loki called in sing-song, and Lorelei hurried back to the desk.

“Oh, beautiful,” said Lorelei, and Loki slid out of the desk chair so that Lorelei could take the figurative wheel.

“Will that be all, then?” asked Loki, walking around the desk to the chaise lounge where she had deposited her coat.

“You’re not staying?” asked Lorelei, without looking up from the computer.

Loki shrugged. “You hired me to hack. I won’t interfere otherwise. And I’m tired.”

Lorelei finally looked up and narrowed her eyes. “And you really don’t want payment,” she said skeptically.

Loki shrugged into her coat. “Like I said: Consider this an apology.”

“I’d rather pay you and be done with it.”

“Then pay me,” said Loki, tossing her hair over her collar. “Or don’t. Whatever. We’re even.”

Lorelei studied her. Loki put her hands on her hips and waited, and finally Lorelei nodded. “All right,” she said. “We’re even. You ought to change before you get home,” she added, flapping a dismissive hand. “Wouldn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable on my account.”

Loki put on a smirk. “You underestimate how much I might _enjoy_ this form,” she teased.

Lorelei snorted and returned her attention to the computer. “Have fun, then.”

“Call me if you encounter any trouble,” said Loki, wandering out of the office. Hopefully she wouldn’t; Loki would only endure so much in exchange for some measure of alliance.

Loki was surprised not to see Verity back at the apartment until she remembered that Verity had an early morning tomorrow and thus had decided to sleep at her own place. Well then, no one could stop Loki from getting smashed.

She queued up My Little Pony, which was always worth a laugh and a drinking game. Their magic rules were ridiculous and their friendships even more so. Even the Young Avengers, sweetlings that they were, didn’t solve their team problems like these colorful ponies. Who the Hel even behaved like that? _Dear Princess Celestia, Today I learned that when you get in a fight with someone, maybe it’s just better to let them fuck off, because who wants to deal with people who barely even like who you are anyway?_

Someone said “Dear Princess Celestia.” Take a shot.

She couldn’t remember getting up for them, but by the time Netflix stopped to ask if she was still there, there were three empty wine bottles on the couch and a fourth in her hand and she supposed that meant it was time to call it a night. She got to her feet and stumbled away from the couch and probably— _probably_ —made it to bed before passing out.

* * *

 

 

Sleep rarely came easy these days. It was the nightmare, happening more often, and all the more frustrating because Loki couldn’t remember what it even was. Only the pain and a sense of binding fear lingered after waking. There was also someone else in the dream, but who it was remained a mystery.

It was easier, she had discovered that spring, when she was in female form. It’s how she managed to get any sleep at all in those days, when she was busy running about the realms and accidentally forgetting to even _text_ Verity (an oversight for which she would pay dearly later, but again, hindsight—20/20). She had gotten a bit… distracted.

Loki had found Thor sitting alone on the moon, which would have been strange if, during a quest for a legendary dagger whose only value lay in magpie-like purposes, Loki _hadn’t_ heard about what had happened from a flirtatious conversation with Tony Stark. (In disguise, of course, and Iron Man was none the wiser and subsequently missing three of his credit cards and his cuff links.)

Loki approached Thor from behind cautiously, debating for a while before finally deciding that Thor could stand to be bothered for a little while. When Loki’s horned shadow fell into Thor’s line of sight, he didn’t turn around. But he did speak.

“I have no wish to speak with you now, Brother,” said Thor. “Leave me in peace.”

Loki considered letting it go, but then coughed instead, and Thor turned around. Surprise flashed over his open features briefly before he returned to his melancholy, now with a bit of guilt mixed in.

“My apologies,” he grumbled, looking away. “Sister.”

“That’s all right,” said Loki, dropping down next to him. “What troubles you so, that you would sit on the moon staring at an empty crater, Thor?”

Thor shook his head. “Not Thor. I am unworthy of the name; I gave it to someone else. It’s only Odinson, now.”

He was really taking this whole thing too personally, Loki thought. “Oh, are we going by only our fathers’ legacies now, rather than our own? Should I be Odinson, too, or Laufeyson? Or Odinsdottir, rather, would that be…”

She stopped when the misery on Thor’s face did not abate. That damned hammer. A long time ago, Loki might have been pleased to see Thor so disheartened over losing his trusty hammer and his damnable worthiness, but now she only felt empty. Loki really _couldn’t_ remember hating Thor anymore.

“Thor…” she began, laying a hand on his arm.

He shrugged her off. “Thor is not here. She is elsewhere, acting as the true hero of Midgard.”

“You can still be a hero without Mjolnir, Tho—Odinson,” said Loki, rolling her eyes when Thor shot her a warning glare. “Iron Man seems to manage it, and he’s a _dreadful_ narcissist.”

“You are one to talk,” said Thor, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ha! Well, at least _I_ don’t—” _Pretend to be something I’m not_ , she was about to say, but she bit off the lie before it could escape. That hit a bit too close to home for a conversation with Thor. “Base my self-worth off my sire’s name,” she finished after a beat. “ _That_ would be terrible, indeed, wouldn’t it?”

Thor’s smirk disappeared, and Loki cursed silently. She had been away for far too long; she didn’t know what was going on in Asgardia. She had only been watching the All-Mother from afar, waiting for her next move. And King Loki… She hadn’t seen him about in a while, though she was sure that wasn’t for his lack of manipulations. He was probably somewhere behind the scenes, screwing everything up…

What _had_ he been up to…?

During all of Loki’s internal musing, Thor had turned away to watch the small crater in the surface of the moon again, his expression closed, and Loki’s stomach dropped, as though she had missed a step in the dark.

“Go away, Loki,” said Thor. “I wish to be left alone.”

And so she had left Thor sitting on the moon to wallow, because there was only so much of someone else’s pity party that Loki could take, and, for some reason, watching Thor was making her feel ill.

Loki stuck around on the moon for a few days, spying benignly on the Inhumans (somewhat like watching a TV drama; apparently the new Ms. Marvel was making quite a splash) and keeping an eye on a mopey Thor (somewhat like watching a Sundance film about the uncertain fates of men, even featuring a slovenly Beard of Sorrow) until she grew bored.

She hadn’t been to Asgardia in months, preferring to spend time with Verity (Valentine’s Day in Istanbul) and America (Tuesday game nights; sometimes Billy and Teddy came, too) over dwelling on whatever betrayal the All-Mother was currently cooking up. Or not, maybe; Freyja did have a newborn now, after all. Perhaps her days of betrayal were over.

(Not likely.)

So Loki, exhausted from restless nights because he hadn’t yet figured out the whole female form sleep-hack, made his way to Asgardia for some reconnaissance. He maintained his invisibility, but one can only be so invisible to certain people. He only heard a snippet of an argument between Odin and Freyja about the new Thor and then about the new baby—something was _wrong_ —before he felt a prick at his finger. He stared at the blood welling up, confused. What was that alarm for? He couldn’t remember.

He puzzled over it for a while in the dark corner of the throne room, and then it came to him. It was an old alarm, from nearly two years ago, when he had first left Asgardia to wander Midgard in search of a way to advance his magic quickly.

When he looked up, Odin and Freyja were gone, and soon he, too, made himself scarce.

Loki ducked through back corridors until he reached the tower. Halfway up the stairs, he shifted into fox form to preserve his stealth, though he sacrificed invisibility for it. It didn’t matter; no one used this tower, and so he met no one. It was such a remote corner of the palace, and Loki wondered if perhaps it felt as haunted to the other Asgardians as it did to him. Though if it did, they would not understand why.

He silently ran up the spiral stairs until he reached the small room at the top, gingerly stepping over the trip wire. It wasn’t _actually_ the top room, of course; there was an opening in the ceiling leading up to the true room, from which a rope ladder had hung for a few short months. Now it was gone, and there was no way up. Loki sniffed around the edge of the lower room, but he found no evidence that anyone had even come up here since he had left, much less in the last hour. So what had set off the alarm?

He circled back to the stairs to get a running start and then leapt up, shifted in midair, and caught the lip of the hole. Quickly, before he could lose momentum, he pulled himself up, hitting his shin. He stifled a hiss of pain and glanced around the hidden little room, but there was no one there.

He slowly got to his feet, taking in how _small_ the room was. He didn’t remember it being so cramped, but then again, the last time he was here, he was a quite bit shorter.

A fine layer of dust covered everything, from the floor to the stacks of books against the walls. There was a small end table that had occasionally served as a desk, covered in papers curled from heat and moisture and neglect. The lantern on the table still had oil in it, though that, too, was covered in dust.

A book of spells lay open in the center of the makeshift desk, its pages yellowed and stiff. Loki turned a page and read about spells for getting stains out, and his first thought was, _How mundane_ , but then he wondered what sort of stains and couldn’t remember if this had seemed important to him before.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

Loki whirled around to see his older self, leaning against the wall in the corner, and he realized why he hadn’t been able to smell anyone else in the tower. Because there was no one _else_.

Both alarmed and relieved to see the specter (he _had_ meant to check on him, after all), Loki straightened and slammed the book shut. “Oh, yes. For the good old days,” he sneered.

King Loki smirked. “Which ones? The ones we spent as a bird, feeding poor counsel into a younger Loki’s head, or the ones where we could pretend to be innocent while wrecking the lives of a few Young Avengers? How _is_ Wiccan, by the way?”

Loki’s hand went to his new knife at his hip, but when he tried to pull it from its sheath, it was gone. He glanced down and then back up at King Loki, who was turning the dagger between his fingers.

“Nice try,” said King Loki. “I suppose you went after this for its legendary magical properties. And the fact that it binds itself to its owner so that no one else can use it. But unfortunately for you,” he said, and then in a blink reappeared next to Loki and held the blade to his throat, “we have the same fingerprints.”

Loki’s mind raced for a way out—shifting back into a fox? No, King Loki might grab him, and then he’d be trapped—but before he could even move to disarm him, King Loki released him and stepped to the side.

“You look exhausted,” said King Loki, looking at him with exaggerated concern. “Honestly, I’m _worried_. Bad dreams keeping you up?”

Loki eyed him warily. “Are you asking me how _I_ sleep at night?”

King Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, no doubt next to that stunning mortal friend you’ve made,” he said, offering the knife back. Loki raised an eyebrow, but King Loki just waggled it at him until he took it. “Want to guess how long that lasts?”

“Ooh, spoiler alert,” said Loki, sheathing the blade. “What’s next? The ending to Game of Thrones?”

“You’re right, that _would_ be telling,” said King Loki with a wicked grin. “I suppose you have enough on your mind. Women and women and women.” He grinned, and then sang, “ _My baby don’t care who knows, my baby just cares for me._ For eternity.”

Loki bristled, the phrase familiar and strange all at once. “What do you want?”

King Loki just smiled. “ _You’re_ the one who has come to Asgardia in secret and unbidden. What do _you_ want?”

Loki scoffed. In secret and unbidden, indeed. If King Loki was only going to leer and make vague remarks, then nothing more productive could be gleaned from this encounter. Loki turned away and started toward the hole in the floor.

“So how _do_ you sleep at night?” King Loki called after him.

Loki stopped, considered, and then smirked back over his shoulder. “Unlike you, not alone.”

And then he teleported away, but not before he heard King Loki’s ominous laugh.

If his older self knew about the dreams, then something was _definitely_ amiss, and over the following weeks, Loki threw himself into discovering what it was. He met with dream seers throughout the realms to obtain information about visions and memories, while avoiding ever letting anyone into his head, and when that produced no results, he bit the bullet and ventured into the hells to spy on the fear lords.

They weren’t very happy about that.

Once Loki made it back to New York—and he just _barely_ made it back—Verity made things a little better. They had a bit of a rough go for a few months, sure, but Verity… Verity always made things better. She cleared his head and called him out and made him feel real.

Loki had the feeling that Verity could even keep the world from falling apart.

* * *

 

 

The earth spun and shook, but Loki was pretty sure there were no earthquakes in New York, bar superhuman involvement, which was why she clung to sleep a little longer until the shaking stopped.

“Loki.”

Loki groaned. Oh. Not an earthquake. Just Verity waking her from a lovely, dreamless sleep. And, oh dear, she had a headache, didn’t she? Perfect.

“Loki, you have to get up,” said Verity softly. “Pretty sure you slept all day.”

She groaned again and rolled over onto her back. “I think I drank three bottles of wine.”

“I saw,” said Verity, her amused smile evident in her voice. Loki cracked open an eyelid to check and was grateful that Verity hadn’t turned on the lights. “You all right?”

“Yes,” she said automatically, reverting to sarcasm halfway through to cover.

Verity’s stunned pause made Loki open her eyes to see Verity’s concerned and disapproving frown.

“Wow,” said Verity. “It’s like red flashing sirens just went off in my head.”

“What a coincidence, that’s how I feel, too,” Loki joked, but her laugh was feeble and the accompanying movement made her head spin.

“What happened?” demanded Verity.

Loki sighed. “I drank too much wine,” she tried.

“And?”

Loki sighed again, and Verity gave her an impatient look. “I saw Lorelei last night,” she confessed, skipping over the nature of their meeting, “and she, er…” How to put it? “Wasn’t convinced of my… femininity.” She winced a little. Damn.

Verity’s pitying smile was difficult to bear. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s pretty shitty.”

Loki shrugged and played with her fingers. “Everyone has an idea in their head of what I should be.”

Verity frowned. “And what about you? What do you want to be?”

This conversation was too serious to have this early in the… hangover. “Right now? Not hungover.”

“You’ll need food for that,” said Verity. She pushed herself to her feet. “Put some clothes on. I’ll make bacon.”

That was all the motivation Loki needed, really. But Verity’s command made her look down at herself in curiosity. She was wearing a button-up shirt with only two buttons done and boxers she didn’t remember changing into. Verity went into the kitchen, and Loki slowly sat up and began to button the shirt properly, but she had to stop and start over when the two sides didn’t match up. She changed into leggings and went to check her hair in the mirror, but she had apparently covered the mirror with a sheet. Uncovered, it revealed quite the mess of black hair and stale makeup, so she went to the bathroom to wash her face and ran her fingers through her hair a few times before giving up, because pulling at her hair was _not_ doing wonders for her headache.

Verity was indeed frying bacon; the smell filled the apartment, and Loki followed her nose (and common sense, really) into the kitchen. There was sourdough bread, lettuce, and tomatoes on the counter as well, so Verity seemed to be under the impression that Loki was actually going to eat any of that and not just stuff herself full of bacon. Silly girl.

Loki walked past Verity to the fridge and pulled her cold bottle of vodka out of the freezer, but Verity turned and caught her.

“No,” she said. “You’ve had enough.”

“Hair of the dog, Verity,” Loki reminded her.

“That’s not scientifically proven to work, you know,” she said, reaching for the bottle, but Loki moved it out of her reach.

“But it’s experience-tested to make me feel better,” said Loki. “Besides, I was just planning to make a Bloody Mary. By which I mean,” she added hastily when Verity glared, “I am going to drink this and maybe eat a tomato. Okay, minus the tomato,” she conceded when Verity’s eyes narrowed further. Her ire didn’t recede, so Loki reluctantly returned the vodka to the freezer. “Tyrant,” she muttered.

“What was that?” said Verity, very loudly and totally on purpose, and Loki winced at the sudden temporal throb that accompanied the shout. Loki was ready to complain when Verity shoved a plate under her nose. The BLT accompanying this plate was more B than LT. Loki’s complaints flew out the window into the darkening sky.

“Dearest one of mine,” Loki amended with a grin, taking the plate. Verity snorted and turned to make her own sandwich, and Loki climbed up to sit on a counter. For appearance’s sake, she took a bite out of the sandwich, but she really only planned to pick out the bacon. That is, until she realized how hungry she was. And how delicious the BLT tasted altogether. “Oh Norns,” she moaned. “This hits the spot.”

“Did you really sleep all day?” asked Verity, leaning against the counter to eat.

“I got back late,” said Loki. “Thanks to Lorelei. You know she tried to enchant me?” Loki scoffed. “Stupid bitch.”

Verity raised an eyebrow. “She thought it would work?”

“I’m not certain it wouldn’t,” Loki admitted. “But I’m not taking any chances; I have charms against that sort of thing.” She finished off her sandwich and picked up the bits of bacon that had escaped, trying not to think about the tingle she had felt when Lorelei attempted her spell. Just a tingle; not quite a compulsion. It could feel like that on any woman, probably, but Loki didn’t like the inherent threat in it. She had been wearing that anti-compulsion charm, too. Loki licked the bacon grease from her fingers and suddenly remembered Lorelei’s suggestion that she “change before you get home… Wouldn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable…”

“Does it bother you?” asked Loki tentatively, but she didn’t dare look up.

Verity didn’t answer for a while. “No,” she said at last. “Why should it?”

Loki looked up. Verity looked utterly unimpressed.

“You aren’t lying. It’s not an illusion,” she said, and then she shrugged and smiled. “It’s like you said: You’re always yourself.”

Verity turned to drop her plate in the sink and began to put everything away; as far as she was concerned, the matter was closed. Loki watched her, struck dumb by the simple truth of this. Looking back, the first time Verity had seen her in this form, she had not been fazed at all then either. A little surprised, at first, eyes wide and blinking, and then Verity had just accepted it and moved on to whatever they did that day. While others had balked and even displayed open annoyance, and sometimes hostility (though, if Loki was honest with herself, that could just be their reaction to her no matter what), only a few had just accepted it. And Verity saw that it was the truth.

Loki ducked her head and bit back a smile. Yup. Verity always made things better. Even vegetables, she mused, considering the slice of tomato that had slipped out of her BLT. After a moment of deliberation, she made a bacon-tomato-bacon sandwich, and thusly cleaned her plate.

“I should probably go,” said Verity, wiping her hands on a towel. “I’ve had a long day, and if you slept through it, you’re gonna be wired all night.”

“Stay,” said Loki. “I won’t keep you up. I kind of want to sleep off this hangover anyway.”

It took a little more wheedling, and no small amount of puppy dog eyes, but Verity finally consented to sleep over. She read for a while, and Loki lay on the couch with her head in Verity’s lap, interrupting her reading with some funny posts on Yamblr and occasionally prattling at her, until Verity announced that she was going to turn in. Loki wasn’t sleepy at all—Verity had correctly predicted that she would be wired—but she crawled into bed with Verity anyway. She _had_ intended to just lie there with her until sleep came, but she was still feeling headachey and the feeling of Verity beside her was like a balm.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t keep me up,” moaned Verity, and Loki realized she had been kissing her neck and her hand was slowly rubbing circles on Verity’s stomach.

“Oops,” she whispered into the skin behind Verity’s ear. “I lied.” Verity sighed, and Loki hooked her leg over Verity’s thighs, climbing on top of her and turning her onto her back.

“Loki…” Verity began impatiently, but Loki pressed her mouth over Verity’s to stop her. Verity sighed through her nose and even kissed Loki back a little, but eventually, she turned her head to the side.

“Loki, I’m tired,” she said.

“So relax and let me do all the work,” Loki purred, catching Verity’s earlobe between her teeth.

“I’m serious. Not in the mood.”

“I think I can help with that…”

“Not when you’re like this.”

Loki froze, stopping her hand on its slow descent down Verity’s abdomen. “Oh,” she said, rather more sullenly than she meant to.

“Shit.” Verity grabbed Loki’s arm as she began to roll off her. “No, that’s—That is _not_ what I meant, at all.”

Loki huffed and the headache seemed to return with a vengeance. Her stomach knotted, and she looked away from Verity to blink, but Verity put a hand to her cheek and turned her head back.

“Listen to me,” said Verity, her eyes sharp and serious. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that right now, you’re only looking for validation, and I’m not into that.”

Loki inhaled sharply, but Verity interrupted before she could protest.

“You’ve been doing it all night,” said Verity. “I _told_ you it doesn’t matter to me. What Lorelei did was fucked up, but what does she know? Stop posturing. You’re you. Be you.”

Loki glanced away, focusing on the pillow next to Verity’s head. “Loki is not the most pleasant creature to be,” she muttered.

“So I’ve gathered,” said Verity. She shifted and opened her arms. “Come here.”

Loki frowned skeptically, but she settled next to Verity and let her wrap her arms around her, pulling Loki’s head to rest under her chin. Verity stroked her hair, and Loki sighed.

“I’m sorry,” said Verity. “I didn’t mean to reject you.”

“Everyone does eventually,” muttered Loki. To be Loki is to be alone.

_If I am loved, it is only because I am not known._

“Shut up, you child-killing bodysnatcher,” said Verity with affection, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not leaving you. I married you—all of you, and everything you come with.”

“Perhaps not such a wise decision,” mused Loki, her fingers tracing spirals on Verity’s tattooed arm.

“There have been a few perks,” said Verity, and she wove her fingers into Loki’s hair and tilted her head back to kiss her. Loki eagerly reciprocated until Verity broke the kiss. “There. Now go to sleep.”

Loki rolled her eyes at the notion that a couple of kisses could satisfy her, but she did feel less tense, and eventually she even drifted off into sleep.

* * *

 

 

“You’re not serious, right?” said Loki, raising an eyebrow at the denim jacket Verity held out.

Verity rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t you make fun of _my_ clothes,” said Verity. “ _You’re_ the one without a casual wardrobe.”

Loki sniffed and took the jacket, but she couldn’t argue with that. Her Midgardian wardrobe consisted almost solely of cocktail dresses, catsuits, and men’s clothes. Oops. That was an oversight on her part, but she had just never had an occasion to walk around town in street clothes. Not without the benefit of illusions, which Verity was decidedly not going to allow. She _did_ have a few blouses and skinny jeans, but Verity had taken one look at the small section of her closet dedicated to women’s clothing and declared that a shopping trip was in order.

“I’m going to look like I’m on Full House,” Loki complained under her breath.

“I understood that reference,” said Verity.

“Ah, it’s working then,” said Loki, pulling the jacket on over the most casual-looking black dress she owned. “It seems my evil plot to plant pop culture knowledge into your brain shall be a great success.”

“Ha _ha_. My aunt used to watch it constantly.”

“Is that where you got your fashion sense?”

“Watch it, or I’ll make you wear slap bracelets, too.”

“The horror,” Loki drawled, and while she was thinking about it, she slipped her gold bracelet over her left hand. Then she turned in the mirror to inspect her appearance. Casual enough for a trip to the mall, she supposed. Verity had complained that she was going to “embarrass her” by looking like a “runway model” or something, and “Don’t try to give out autographs again, Loki, that was ridiculous, I can’t believe people thought you were Harry Styles.”

“Are you finished?” asked Verity with an impatient sigh.

Loki turned from the full-length mirror with her hands on her hips. “ _Someone_ has to appreciate how really, really, ridiculously good-looking I am.”

Of course, the reference flew right over her head. Verity sighed and shook her head. “Gods…”

Loki slipped on some heels left over from her Monte Carlo days (“We have _got_ to get you some practical flats,” Verity said), and then they headed out for their shopping spree. Well, not a spree; Verity was far too practical and above all _cheap_ to really splurge, but it was Loki’s money, so she could do whatever she wanted. Verity wouldn’t even consider the more high-end stores, though Loki convinced her to stop at a few designers as they walked through downtown Manhattan, “just to look.” Of course, once they “looked,” Loki also “purchased,” which, really, Verity should have suspected would happen.

“You know,” said Verity, while Loki consolidated her new designer blouses into one bag, “all that stuff is made by children in sweatshops.”

“Verity, _everything_ is made by children in sweatshops, even your quaint denim jacket from the Gap,” Loki told her. Verity scoffed, and Loki took the opportunity to slip the shopping bags out of sight into a dimensional pocket. “Might as well get the good stuff.”

“Half of the things you bought could be found for a fraction of the price.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I’m redistributing my immense wealth.”

“Maybe I should take you thrift shopping so you can redistribute your wealth to people who need it.”

Loki wrinkled her nose. “So I can wear your _grandmother’s_ clothes?”

“Says the thousand-year-old mythical being,” retorted Verity, crossing her arms. “Vintage is in.”

Loki smirked and picked at the lapel of the denim jacket. “Indeed.”

Verity smacked her hand.

She complained all the way, but Loki let Verity drag her to the mall. Despite her complaints, Loki actually looked forward to having a typical girls’ day out with Verity. It seemed like such a _normal_ thing to do for mortals, and she knew Verity didn’t get much _normal_. No thanks, to Loki herself, really. She dug her heels in at the department stores, though; that was _not_ happening.

“Snob,” scoffed Verity, dropping onto a bench in the center plaza to rest. Verity didn’t usually go on excessive shopping trips like this, and being around so many people tended to wear her out, so Loki knew that this was entirely for her benefit. If Verity was going to sacrifice the potential for a quiet afternoon, as she tended to prefer, then Loki was determined that Verity was going to get something out of it, even if that was only entertainment at Loki’s expense. Exaggerated complaining and dramatic gestures were definitely a part of that.

“I’ll shop at J.C. Penney the day of Ragnarok, and not a day before,” Loki swore, brandishing a fist.

“I’ll hold you to that,” warned Verity.

Loki sat down next to her. “Go ahead. Call me during Ragnarok. See what happens.”

“I’ll take you shopping in the middle of an apocalypse,” Verity threatened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Seems totally your style.”

“ _Absolutely_ my style,” Loki agreed, leaning back and crossing her legs. “If you’re going out in a burning, explosion-y, apocalyptic doom, might as well do it in style. Did I ever tell you about the time Thor and I battled fire giants?”

“Verity!”

Verity glanced over Loki’s shoulder, and Loki turned to see Kate and America approaching. Kate was waving, but America had her arms crossed, looking as dour as usual. Loki grinned and waved back, and Kate squinted at her briefly before recognition dawned on her face.

“Hey, Kate,” said Verity, rising to meet them. “Hey, America.” Kate hopped forward to hug her, and America nodded.

“I can’t believe this,” said Kate, gushing. “Verity, you didn’t tell me you were friends with _Katy Perry._ ”

Loki laughed, and Verity shot her a suspicious frown, but Kate waved her hand.

“I’m kidding,” said Kate, grinning. “Looking good, Lokes.”

Loki shrugged one shoulder and smirked. “Easy enough when you resemble Katy Perry. I’m thinking of trying out for America’s Next Top Model.” This got the desired reaction from each of them: Kate laughed, Verity pursed her lips, and America rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised to see you here, chica,” said America. “Didn’t think this was your sort of place.”

“Well, Verity decided my wardrobe was severely lacking,” said Loki, and she gestured at the stores surrounding them. “So here we are, purchasing Muggle clothes for me. I didn’t take you for mallrats either.”

“We’re not,” said Kate. “We’re here on recon. But we have time to kill, right?” she added, glancing at America for a nod of confirmation. “Need any help?”

“Oh yes, please,” said Verity with a groan. “I seriously need another voice of reason to stop her from impulse shopping.”

“Hey, that Lolita dress would have looked great on me,” argued Loki.

“ _Casual_ , Loki. We’re going for _casual_.”

“Tell that to the Harajuku girls.”

“What do you actually _need_?” asked Kate.

“I don’t _actually_ need anything,” Loki told her. “If it were up to me, I would just walk around naked with some well-placed illusions. But Verity says that’s,” she held up her hands to make air-quotes, “‘inappropriate.’”

“I think the exact words I used were ‘indecent’ and ‘illegal.’”

Loki flapped a hand at her and stood. “Whatever.”

Kate and America accompanied them to their next stop, Forever 21, which Loki thought was a pretty absurd name for a clothing store targeting young mortals who would not, in fact, be forever twenty-one, much less “forever” at all.

America split off with Verity, “to give her a break from you, chica,” leaving Loki and Kate to wander the second floor of the store together. Loki didn’t try very hard to look for anything in particular; they had all day to shop, and she already had several outfits. It was a matter of filling in the gaps now, she supposed.

“I need your opinion on something,” Loki said to Kate.

Kate pulled a shirt off the rack and examined it briefly before replacing it. “What?”

“Do you think America would put me through yonder wall if I hit on her?” asked Loki with a grin.

Kate raised an eyebrow and snorted. “I think you’d go through several walls,” she said, and Loki laughed. “How are you and Verity, anyway? Is she doing okay after the split with that guy?”

Loki scoffed. “That was months ago.”

“Still,” said Kate. “She was pretty broken up over it.”

She had been, it was true, which Loki didn’t understand at all. Mike—Matt? Whatever—hadn’t been that great, and they had only dated for a little under three months. But Verity had stayed somewhat melancholy and introverted for _weeks_. It had been frustrating, and Loki took several day trips during the summer just to get away from it, until finally deciding that Verity _had_ to get out of this funk. So Loki teleported into her apartment, told her to pack a bag, and spirited her away to Egypt to see the pyramids, which seemed to make her feel better.

“But you guys are okay now?” Kate prodded.

Loki wasn’t certain. It had been a slow recovery, but Verity was back to her old self now. Their sex life had started up again, after a night that sort of felt like one of their early hangouts, when they just barhopped and talked and second-acted comedy shows and magic acts, culminating in whispered admissions back at Loki’s apartment.

“I missed you,” Verity had said on the sofa, and then she kissed Loki, and all Loki could say was, “Me too, me too,” heart pounding eagerly, and they’d fallen into each other and hadn’t stopped for the sun.

It wasn’t the same, though. It felt different somehow, and sometimes Verity still held back, and Loki would think of her accusation—“You _haven’t_ told me everything, there’s still something you’re hiding from me”—and all of that meant that, even if the sex felt more impassioned, it also felt more desperate.

“Sure,” said Loki.

“That’s not convincing,” said Kate, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Lies?”

Loki sighed. “You said to give her space. So I did. But now it’s not the same as before.” She paused, absently rubbing the fabric of a dress between her fingers. Calling Kate in that moment of panic the morning after Verity’s break up was not Loki’s proudest moment, but Kate’s advice had been sound.

“Pay attention to what she _needs_ ,” Kate had said. “Sometimes it’ll be, ‘What a jerk, he’s stupid, I hope he develops warts on his dick,’ and sometimes it’ll just be ‘That sucks. I’m sorry. Want some ice cream?’ The most important thing is to _listen_ , because she might feel unheard. Almost invalid.”

And didn’t Loki know _that_ feel.

Being supportive didn’t stop Loki from exacting revenge on the source of Verity’s pain, however. Now whenever Matt used a word that started with a “V,” he would develop the terrible, irresistible urge to break something—usually his phone, since it would always be on hand. And do you _know_ how often people use the word “very”? _Very_ often. Loki was going to do more, but when America caught him planning a more public form of humiliation involving pheromones, she stopped him and nearly told Verity, until Loki swore he wouldn’t use any more curses on Matt and also would America like to go out for Korean barbecue sometime?

The meat bribe had worked, but so had America’s warnings; Loki hadn’t checked up on Matt since. And why should she? It’s not like he was _important_ to Verity anymore.

She sighed and dropped her hand. “We’ll be fine,” she told Kate. “We were friends before we were ever anything else.”

Kate hummed thoughtfully and Loki looked up and found something she could use to change the subject, which desperately needed changing.

“I have one more question for you,” she said, and when Kate turned, she held up the star-spangled jacket and grinned. “Is it worth getting thrown through the wall if I can but briefly match America?”

Kate grinned back.

* * *

 

 

“This is surreal,” said America. She had apparently gotten over her silent, brooding annoyance at Loki’s attempt to purchase _all_ red, white, and blue articles in Forever 21 enough to comment on the current situation.

That situation being Loki requesting her opinion on what was better suited for her: panties printed with _Trust Me_ or _Juicy_ on the backside. She was really only doing it for America’s reaction. ( _Obviously_ “Trust Me” was the superior choice for Loki.) This mall shopping trip had turned out to be much more fun than Loki had anticipated.

“I don’t know how to feel either,” said Kate, covering her face with her hand.

“Feel flattered that I’m asking your opinion,” Loki suggested.

Verity snatched the underwear away. “We’re here for bras,” she reminded Loki. “Quit traumatizing your friends with lewd underwear.”

“Seriously,” said Kate, dropping her hand. “If you’re going to traumatize us, you might as well do it with sexy lingerie.”

Loki smiled brightly, and America groaned.

“Don’t encourage her, Princess,” muttered America. Kate shot her an apologetic smile.

“No, no, no,” said Verity, as Loki turned to walk deeper into the store where the more risqué articles were kept. Verity managed to grab her arm as she passed. “Stick to the mission.”

“But sidequests are the best part of any mission!” said Loki, beaming at her. “Besides,” she added in a whisper, touching Verity’s arm just barely with her fingertips, “I’d like to get something special for you.”

Verity raised an unamused eyebrow, and Loki winked roguishly at her and sauntered away.

“Wait,” Verity called after her, suddenly sounding concerned, “for _me_ or for _you_?”

Loki’s only response was a cackle.

Oh, this was _so_ much fun.

* * *

 

 

After karaoke in a Korea somewhere, America brought them all back to Manhattan, which was nice of her, considering Loki had spent the better part of the day teasing her, just short of flirting. She had secretly bought the star-spangled jacket when no one was looking (and they really should have been) and put it on after lunch. To her credit, America didn’t actually put her through a wall; also nice of her.

“Is this all because you’re not supposed to hit girls?” Loki teased.

“Nah,” said America. “You paid for it. Joke’s on you.”

“Well, considering I’m Norse royalty, it’s not such a great financial loss,” she said.

America smirked. “Whaddaya know,” she said, “I know _two_ princesses.”

“Hey!” shouted Kate from behind them.

“I’m just glad I found a suitable replacement for that denim thing,” said Loki, wrinkling her nose. “I swear I only needed a side ponytail, and I’d look like I traveled in time from the 90s…”

Verity kicked her in the backside, and Loki laughed.

“And your Asgardian corsets are _so_ this century,” retorted Verity.

“Shows how much you know about Asgardian fashion,” said Loki haughtily.

“And ‘juicy’ panties are part of high fashion among your people?” Kate teased.

“Of course!”

They laughed, and Loki slowed to let Verity and Kate fall into step with her and America. She snaked an arm around Verity’s waist, and Verity slung an arm behind her shoulders. As they walked down the avenue, she reveled in the clear, open night. It wasn’t quite cold yet, with the last vestiges of the warmth of summer clinging to the city. Loki didn’t quite want to let go either.

“Are you staying tonight?” she asked Verity.

Verity hummed thoughtfully. “I can,” she said with a shrug, and then, after a hesitant pause, she added in a low voice, “As long as you don’t keep me up too late.”

Loki laughed and put a hand to her heart in feigned shock. “Verity Willis,” she said in mock-scandalized tones, “are you _flirting_ with me?” Verity laughed, too, and Loki pulled her closer. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually into women.”

“I’m into _you_ ,” Verity told her, closing the gap between them. A bolt of excitement made Loki’s heart race, and she had to force herself to break the kiss.

“This is because of the lingerie, isn’t it?” she asked with a grin.

Verity snorted. “You know I’m not actually into _that_ , right?”

“Liar,” Loki teased, and she leaned in for another kiss.

She didn’t realize they had stopped until America cleared her throat loudly, and she looked up to find the other two women several paces ahead of them. Kate was grinning broadly, a laugh in her eyes, and America’s lips were turned up as she fought down her amusement. Loki licked her lips and pulled away to take Verity’s hand and walked toward them.

“Smoooooch,” said Kate as they caught up.

Loki pointed a finger at her and narrowed her eyes. “How dare you.”

Kate grinned. “It’s late. I’m gonna get going.”

“Good luck with your mission,” said Verity. Loki had forgotten they had even had a mission.

America shrugged. “It’ll be cake.”

“What kind of cake?” asked Loki.

America seemed to understand the implied question, but she shook her head. “It’s not for you, chica.”

She couldn’t bring herself to even feel disappointed. Whatever; the details of their missions didn’t concern her. Anymore. Probably that was for the best.

Kate gave Verity a good-bye hug, and then she turned to Loki while Verity and America bid each other good night.

“You two are going to be fine,” she whispered into Loki’s ear as she embraced her.

“Yeah,” Loki whispered back uncertainly.

“Seriously,” said Kate, pulling away. “She doesn’t mind this,” she added, gesturing to Loki, “so…”

Loki smirked. “But you just gestured to all of me.”

Kate smiled. “Exactly. All of you. You’re lucky.”

Loki hummed. “Thanks, Kate.”

Kate and America split off from them, and they continued hand in hand to Loki’s apartment.

“I was serious, you know,” said Verity.

“Hmm?”

“About not staying up _too_ late.”

“Worry not, my dear,” Loki told her, raising their hands to kiss Verity’s knuckles. “I won’t even wake you with nightmares. I don’t get _that_ one in this form.”

Verity frowned. “Why not?”

Loki shrugged. “I just never have.”

Verity was silent for a moment. “What does that mean?” she murmured.

Loki had theories; it might be that someone was sending the nightmare, but couldn’t find her mind in this form. Like when she was a bird or a fox, it was harder for telepaths to reach her. So someone was trying to tell her something—or at least tell her male self something. She was not certain that she wanted to know why that was, and her journeys last spring hadn’t brought her any closer to the truth.

“It means,” she said slowly, pulling Verity close again, “that we can enjoy ourselves tonight.”

Verity rolled her eyes, but she reached over and slid her hand over Loki’s abdomen to hug her around the waist. “Well, you _were_ good today,” said Verity. “Despite the jacket, and I _saw_ you pocket that necklace, but I put it back when you weren’t looking. But you did all right.”

Loki grinned. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Verity smirked up at her. “Nothing good, I’m sure,” she said, and Loki threw back her head and laughed, because like everything Verity said, that was true.

And yet, she stayed.


	9. Madwoman in the Attic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki has some explaining to do and Verity’s night out is cut short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Sorry for the wait. I got distracted by Nanowrimo and then a few other projects... But we're almost through this story!

 

Family gatherings were always difficult to endure, but Thanksgiving tended to be the worst. First of all, it was Thanksgiving, a holiday founded _entirely_ on a pack of lies that erased a bloody history of colonialism and racism and that painted a barbarian up so that he looked like some heroic discoverer of the free world. And then having her extended family all in one place, one-upping each other and/or playing a bit _too_ nice—well, there was a reason she never stayed very long.

Escaping to the bathroom every once in a while to text Loki about whatever ridiculous thing her aunt was saying helped. His replies made her feel less alone, which was stupid, because sarcastic agreements that her aunt was right, “Illegal immigrants _are_ ruining this country, just look at how many times aliens have nearly destroyed the planet” and “Oh, I can say that because some of my best friends are mutants,” weren’t _actually_ constructive, much less _true_. Still, it was nice to have someone to complain to and to share in her misery. Or entertainment, as it was.

_Ask her what she thinks about Asgardians,_ he goaded. _I’m curious._

_Probably that they should simultaneously solve all our problems and also go back to where they came from_ , she texted back, annoyed.

_She sounds like the All-Mother. Maybe we should get them together. ;)_

_Politics are stupid._

_Agreed._

_Families are stupid._

_Doubly agreed, lol._

As the night went on, Verity had better excuses to step out. Most of her immediate family knew about her power, so they understood that dealing with large groups of drunk people exaggerating their truths might be difficult for her. Those that weren’t in-the-know just thought she got migraines easily. Near the end of the night, she retreated to her mom’s bedroom to lie down and text Loki again.

_Someday you’re gonna let me come to one of these things and you’ll see how much more fun it can be_ , he told her.

_Would YOU want to subject me to an Asgardian family reunion?_

_A fair point, but I’m telling you it would be really funny, honest. I'll tell everyone I’m your gay mutant immigrant boyfriend, it’ll be great._

Verity laughed out loud. _Shut the fuck up_ , she shot back.

_You laughed, don’t deny it._

Verity bit back a grin, but before she could reply, the bedroom door opened, and she quickly turned off her screen and dropped her phone on the bed.

“Verity, honey?” her mom said, peeking into the room. “Everyone’s heading out.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting up. She slipped her shoes back on, shoved her phone in her back pocket, and followed her mom out to the entryway to say good-bye to everyone. Her dad hung back, hands deep in his pockets, until he was the last.

“Good night, sweetie,” he said as they embraced, briefly kissing her forehead. “I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You tell me if you ever need anything,” he said, as he always did when they parted. Once, a long time ago, when he thought she was not listening, he had confessed that he felt he had let her down. He hadn’t, and he had nothing to make up for.

She smiled for him. “Sure.”

He hugged her one last time before nodding to her mom and Ron and stepping out into the night.

“Come on,” her mom said, starting toward the kitchen. “Have one last glass with me before you go. I feel like I barely saw you all night.”

And Verity felt a little guilty about that—maybe she _had_ left to text Loki too many times tonight—so she let her mom pour her a glass of wine.

“So,” said her mom, “with all the excitement of having the _entire_ family over for dinner, I never got to ask you how you’ve been.”

Verity shrugged. “Same old thing, really. Tracy got promoted, but she’s still my contact, so that’s nice.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? Are you sure?” she asked slowly.

For someone with a daughter who could see through lies, Eloise had never been very straight-forward. “Yes?” said Verity. “Why?”

Her mom shrugged and, watching Verity over her glasses, took a sip of wine. Verity waited expectantly, and then, in the tone of a person who hopes and utterly fails to sound nonchalant, her mother asked, “So who were you texting?”

Verity blinked, taken aback. “Huh?”

Her mom smirked. “I saw you trying to hide your phone,” she said, entirely too pleased with herself. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

_You’d be surprised_ , Verity thought. “Why?” she asked defensively. “Am I not allowed to text when I take a break?”

“No, that’s not it.” Her mom was still smiling. “It’s just… You seem happy, I thought maybe you and Matt had…”

“It didn’t work out,” said Verity firmly, cutting her off before she could begin on that again. It was hard enough when Ron brought it up during dinner.

“I _knew_ you weren’t a lesbian, see, Harry?” her aunt had said, and Verity didn’t have the inclination to tell everyone there about the frankly amazing sex she and Loki had when Loki was in female form. Opening _that_ can of green beans was not on the schedule for this Thanksgiving dinner.

“It’s too bad,” said her mom wistfully. “He was a nice young man.”

Verity hummed noncommittally.

“So, what, then?” her mom asked. “What had you smiling like that?”

Verity bit her lip and looked down at her wine glass, reaching back to touch her phone in her back pocket. It was probably full of unanswered texts and terrible puns, because he just couldn’t _stop_. She smiled.

“I guess… it’s because I made a friend,” she said slowly.

Her mom immediately straightened and her eyes brightened. “Oh? Who?”

“He—”

“ _He?_ ” she asked excitedly.

Verity gave her a warning glare. “Mom—”

“Okay, okay.” Her mom held up her hands in surrender and waited for Verity to continue.

Verity sighed. “He’s just… a really good friend. We’ve gotten close. It’s been… nice.” She smiled again. “It’s been nice to get to know someone.”

Several someones, actually, because through Loki, she had met America and Kate, and it was such a relief to have people she could call friends, people she trusted, people who didn’t lie to her…

“Does he know about your power?” her mom asked reluctantly.

“He figured it out, actually,” she admitted. “So that’s never been a problem.”

“That’s so great, honey,” her mom said, reaching out to put her hand over Verity’s. “I’m… I’m so glad that you’ve found someone who understands you. Even if they’re just a friend.”

A beat.

“But are you _sure_ he’s just a friend?”

“Mom!”

“All right, all right!” She turned around to begin putting things into the sink, and Verity hid her blush behind a long sip of wine. But her mother was right to ask. They _were_ more than friends. Verity just wasn’t sure how to explain their relationship to her mother, who had always believed that there was someone out there for everyone. Verity was not so sure.

Tonight had reminded her of that. As part of the family tradition of bringing everyone together for Thanksgiving, while sparing Christmas for closer family, Verity’s mother had invited her father. She only did it for Verity’s sake, since she didn’t see her father often, but it made things awkward.

Marriage wasn’t forever. Her parents were proof of that. People’s feelings changed, and they fell in and out of love, and sometimes what one person wanted did not match up with what the other person wanted. She shouldn’t have tried to convince herself that being married to Loki would change anything.

The truth of the matter was that they were friends, above all. Best friends and lovers and legally married… And maybe that was enough. She could be satisfied with that, with having someone she cared about. Even if she _wanted_ more, it was possible that Loki wouldn’t. Their marriage started out as a means to an end anyway, and he had been holding back for months, like he was afraid of something. Verity tried not to push it.

Romantic relationships always fell to pieces anyway, in her experience. This was enough. What they had was enough.

“You know,” she said, “friendships are just as important as romantic relationships. Maybe even more so. So it’s not ‘ _just_ ’ a friendship. It’s important to me.”

“Of course, honey,” said her mom, smiling a little sadly, because she probably didn’t really get it, but that was okay. Verity wasn’t certain she understood it either, still, even though it had been almost a year. But for the first time in her life, Verity had someone she cared about, a friend, someone who didn’t give up on her.

Whatever it was that they had between them, Verity was the happiest she had ever been.

That’s all that mattered.

Really.

 

* * *

 

 

Only a little over a year and a half ago, Verity would have found the idea that she could be sitting in a café with a superhero from legends with control over the weather completely unbelievable. That she could be laughing at a story he told about his gigantic goats would have seemed even more absurd.

“Do not tell my brother I shared this story with you,” Thor warned her with a smile. “I fear he would disapprove. He is not the same one, but it could be embarrassing still.”

Verity smiled over the guilty knot in her stomach that twisted around this lie. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she said.

Secrets. They were a tricky business. No one could really keep secrets from Verity, but she could keep them from others. Sometimes, like now, keeping a secret was the same thing as lying, and she would hate herself for it if Loki hadn’t specifically made her promise not to tell Thor.

Still, she hated lying to Thor. He loved Loki, and to keep the truth from him seemed wrong in so many ways. She wished Loki would just tell him and get it over with. Waiting would only make things worse.

“How is my brother?” asked Thor. “He seems distracted of late.”

Verity looked down at her pie and considered her reply. “He’s been busy,” she said, though with _what_ exactly, she wasn’t sure. “But I think it’s the nightmares getting to him.”

Thor frowned. “Nightmares?”

Verity nodded. “They’re more frequent now.” An understatement; Loki had woken her with thrashing and sometimes even screaming nearly every other night over the last two weeks. She finally told him that if he didn’t see someone about them soon—the All-Mother or Thor, at least—then she had to sleep at her own place from now on, because it was seriously messing with her system.

“I can’t talk to the All-Mother,” Loki had said through his teeth after a particularly bad night. “I’m _never_ going to _her_ for help.”

“Well, you need help from someone,” Verity had snapped, irritable from lack of sleep. “These nightmares are going to drive you crazy.”

It hadn’t been a lot of use fighting about it, and Loki hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out what the dreams were even _about_ , besides some vague descriptions he gave her of an inescapable, burning pain.

“I feel like I _should_ know,” he had told her, frustrated. “It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s _maddening_.”

“Exactly,” she had said, and he shot her an annoyed glare.

“I think my brother has always been plagued by nightmares,” said Thor quietly, and Verity looked up from her pie. He looked very sad. “He rarely acknowledged them to me, but I remember…” He trailed off, his gaze far away.

“He’ll be all right,” she said, as much a reassurance to herself as to Thor. “Once he figures out why they’re happening, I’m sure they’ll stop.”

Thor smiled back. “I hope you are right.” He paused. “If he spoke to Eir…”

“You know he won’t go back to Asgardia,” said Verity with a hopeless smile.

Thor chuckled. “Whatever feud he has with the All-Mother I’m sure could be solved simply by speaking to her. This stubbornness is childish. He need not _stay_ in Asgardia; in fact, I would rather he did not.”

Verity doubted that communication could help Loki’s relationship with the All-Mother at this point. And he wouldn’t go to Asgardia unless he was dying, and maybe not even then.

“Thank you,” said Thor suddenly, “for taking care of my brother.”

Verity blinked. “Oh, no, I—”

“I mean it, Verity,” said Thor solemnly. “Truly. He needs a good friend like you, and I believe you make him happy.”

“Well,” Verity stammered, fighting a blush, “the feeling’s mutual, I guess.”

Thor smiled and his gaze drifted down to his mug. “Thank you for today, as well,” he said softly. “I fear that I am not very good company these days…” He clenched his gloved fist, and Verity tentatively put her hand over it.

“I’m _really_ glad I could spend time with you,” she told him. “And I know you’re busy a lot, but feel free to call me any time. I mean it.”

He smiled at her. “Perhaps like my brother, I have been preoccupied as of late. So much has happened. So much is changing…” He trailed off into silence again. He had told her a little of the current state of things in Asgardia. Loki never talked about it, so Verity was surprised to hear about the new Thor—an unknown woman wielding the hammer—and the growing tensions between Odin and the All-Mother. Apparently, in spite of the new baby, Odin and Freyja were not speaking. All of this internal strife was only exacerbated by the existence of the new Thor and Odinson’s own unworthiness, which put him at odds with his father. No wonder Loki was staying away; he had enough personal issues going on without adding family drama to the mix. As far as Verity knew, he had only seen his new sister once, when Thor dragged him to Asgardia a few weeks prior.

“Change is good,” she said. “It may suck when you’re in the middle of it and don’t know what to do, but it’ll get better.” She said it more out of obligation than anything else, but once it was said, she found that it was true.  _Her_ life had certainly changed, and it felt like it was for the better.

Thor’s smile was suddenly much truer and somewhat knowing. “Yes,” he said. “In this, we must have faith.” He sighed and met her eyes again with a mysterious smile. “I should be going,” he said, standing up, and Verity followed suit. “Happy anniversary, Lady Verity. Pass on my regards to my brother.”

Verity accepted a bone-crushing hug. “I will.”

Thor left, and Verity sat down again to check her phone. She wasn’t in any hurry to brave the cold outside again and even if she did, she was going to meet Loki in less than an hour, so it would be a waste of time to go home. She wasn’t allowed in Loki’s apartment until after their anniversary date. He was pretty adamant about that. She was a little afraid of what he had planned, and he had _insisted_ on doing all the planning. Except for the ice skating; that had been her choice. Ice skating, drinks, and then to his apartment.

She didn’t have any texts, but as soon as she pulled out a book, her phone vibrated on the table. She was mildly surprised that it was a call, not a text; Loki seemed to generally prefer texting.

“My ears stopped burning,” he said before she even said hello. “Are you and Thor finished?”

“He says congratulations,” she told him. “And also requests most earnestly that you answer the call of your cellular device.”

“His words?”

“Verily.”

Loki laughed.

“Seriously, pick up your phone. You’re worrying the guy.”

Loki scoffed. “He just calls at odd hours.”

A lie. Loki had been avoiding Thor, for no reason Verity could see. “Odd hours for _you_ ,” she said. “Afternoons are perfectly decent hours for normal people.”

“Precisely. Frankly, I’m insulted he would think me anything close to _normal._ ”

Verity laughed and quickly stifled the sound with her hand. Some of the other café patrons shot her dirty looks, so she quickly pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse.

“Where are you?” Loki asked.

“Just leaving the café,” said Verity, stepping outside.

“Ah, stay where you are,” he said quickly. “I’m, er, going to be late.”

Verity frowned, but somehow she was not surprised. “Why?”

“I’m afraid telling you would ruin the surprise,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and pulled her coat tighter around herself against the cold. “I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one, I think.”

Verity snorted, but she didn’t argue. He was having fun; she would let him.

“Find somewhere warm, and I’ll call you,” he said.

“Give me a time frame.”

He made a hesitating noise. “An hour from now.”

That was actually just enough time to make a quick stop at her apartment. “Okay,” she said. “In an hour.”

He sighed in relief. “Thanks. Sorry.”

Verity shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “It’s not as if you’re ever that reliable.”

“Hey…”

She snickered. “See you in a bit.”

She hung up and turned a corner to head in the direction of her apartment, only a block away from where she and Thor had decided to have coffee. She had wanted to stop in to drop a few things off anyway. And pick some other things up, because she had a feeling that she wasn’t coming back tonight… or possibly all weekend. She tucked her chin into her scarf to hide her smile as she walked. Whatever Loki had planned, Verity knew it would be fine. She was just grateful to have him as a friend. They’d had a rough year, and it was pretty amazing that they had survived it. Together. Sometimes Verity thought their friendship was the only thing that kept her going.

A year ago, Verity wasn’t sure if marrying Loki was the best idea. It seemed foolish and selfish and doomed to fail, but she was glad she had. It had been fun, in its own way, like an experiment. She felt it had been successful overall.

She pulled off her glove absently to check her phone, and only when her hand was exposed to the cold air did she realize how warm her ring was. She stopped, alarmed, and looked around. This had never happened before; the ring’s charm had _never_ activated. But no one on the street was looking at her, or even walking behind her. The ring suddenly grew hot, and she twisted it a little to let cold air reach her skin. Who “meant her harm”?

Her phone vibrated in her pocket once, and Verity jumped, nearly dropping her phone as she fumbled for it.

It was a text from an unknown number:

_Are you ready for the storm?_

The ring burned on her finger, and Verity’s heart began to pound in her chest. What was going on?

Going home was out of the question. She needed to be with other people, not alone, if someone was after her. She turned around to head back to the café and collided with someone standing behind her.

“Shit,” she gasped, and she started to apologize but froze when she looked up.

The Asgardian woman—for there was no mistaking that she _was_ Asgardian, with her height and distinctive armor-like attire—frowned down at Verity, confusion tilting her head to the side. She wore a circlet of woven gold over her dark hair, but it was her clear blue eyes that held Verity still. She was beautiful. Mesmerizing.

Once Verity had caught her breath, she tried to speak, still terribly aware of the hot ring on her hand. “S-sorry. Can I help you?” she croaked.

The woman looked Verity up and down. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly, with only that slightest hint of an accent that Asgardians tended to have. “You’re just a mortal.”

Verity held back a scoff. Okay, Asgardians may style themselves “gods,” but they all could seriously stand to learn some respect for other groups in the universe. Even Loki could be dismissive of mortals sometimes, and he really had no room to criticize a people who would “cling so desperately and in vain to a life that would not last so long in the grand scheme of things.”

“What does Loki want with you?” the woman asked, breaking Verity from her thoughts.

Verity narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

The woman drew herself up. “I am Sigyn, wife of Loki. Who are you to Loki?”

Verity stared at her. Wife of Loki? He had never mentioned a wife—hadn’t even hinted at it—but this woman’s words rang true. Verity wondered if reading Norse mythology would have helped her at all, but she had never bothered; it wasn’t terribly accurate to begin with, since the gods had changed so many times since their first iterations, and mythology was too full of half-truths for her to wade through.

“A friend,” she said, and then she took a step back. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I have to go.” Go to Loki. Ask him about this woman claiming to be his wife. The gold ring still radiated heat on her finger, and she knew it wouldn’t hurt her for real, but it was _hot_ and something else would, and she needed Loki _now_ , right now, because something was coming.

The woman suddenly looked sad and sighed. “You are right,” she said. “We must go.”

“What—”

But then the street darkened, and Verity couldn’t see anything. She vaguely felt pain, but it wasn’t localized, and then nothing.


	10. Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the jig is up, and the All-Mother calls on Loki.

 

“ _See you in a bit._ ”

Damn right, she would. He might be late, but he wasn’t going to stand her up, no matter what she said. He might even get to Rockefeller Center early, just to spite her. He’d show her who was unreliable…

That is, if he could wrangle this last damned fairy.

Three of them had escaped earlier, and it had taken _hours_ to track the first two. The wards were the only things keeping them inside his apartment, and as he tried to simultaneously herd them back into the (rather roomy, he thought) glass bulbs _and_ put the finishing touches on dinner and the living room, he wondered if maybe he might be trying too hard.

Whatever; it wasn’t every day one had a first-year anniversary with one’s best friend. And aside from the escaped fairies, prepping his apartment had been a fun undertaking for the day. He’d spent much of the day cleaning and cooking and hanging vines of fairy lights, and his apartment would be a veritable glade when he was done. It had been a month in the making, bartering for the fairies and—ahem— _liberating_ them from certain unsavory captors, but it would all be worth it when Verity saw the real life creatures represented on her arms. And afterwards, of course, Loki would set the fairies free, once he was done borrowing their light, because they were wild, mischievous creatures, not meant to be locked up in cages. It was such a shame that so many people preferred them in glass balls.

Although, right now, Loki didn’t blame their usual captors. They were irritating little buggers. He almost felt like he was reenacting that scene in the Harry Potter movie with the pixies.

A flash of light and color flickered in his peripheral vision, and he spun around just in time to see the fairy darting under his couch. He moved to dive for it, but then inspiration struck and he stopped himself. With a loud, resigned sigh, he walked to the kitchen and crouched down to pull a vial from the back of one of the bottom cupboards. With his hand and the vial tucked casually into his pocket, he turned back and started across the living room to his bedroom, and then he spun and lifted the end of the couch with one hand. The fairy made a faint, alarmed tinkling, but before it could zip away, Loki took his hand out of his pocket, thumbed the cork out of the vial, and threw the paralyzing powder at it.

The tinkling continued, but the fairy dropped to the floor, and Loki laughed triumphantly, setting the couch back down over it.

Hermione would be proud.

He walked around to the other end of the couch and reached under it to grab the fairy, which tinkled weakly again in protest.

“Oh, hush,” he told it. “It’s only for a few more hours, and then I’ll give you so much cream, you’ll burst with it.”

The fairy just seemed to glower at him, so Loki sighed and grabbed its glass ball and shoved it back in, feeling a little guilty. He would make it up to them.

He hung the fairy light back up and went to his bedroom, glad that the chase was over so he could concentrate on the next challenge: finding his damned _tie_.

After ten minutes of searching, he was glad that he had overestimated how much time it would take for him to go to Verity, because he could _not_ find the blasted thing. He considered dropping the pretense of surprising her and asking Verity where it might be, but he wasn’t quite that desperate yet, and he _did_ want to surprise her. Though at this point, he might as well show up in her wedding dress, since that was the only complete outfit he could find from that day, and this whole search was making him _late_.

He was about to give up and perhaps just buy another on the way—he was sure _normal people_ also had more than one tie—when he caught sight of a bundle of black silk in the back corner of his underwear drawer. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how he had missed it, and then shoved his hands into the jumble and pulled it apart, and eventually, among the silk scarves, he found his tie.

“Eureka!” he shouted, giddy, and then laughed, relieved. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster after all. He looped the tie over his neck for safekeeping and began to quickly replace everything he had thrown out of the dresser.

Loki checked on the slow cooker once more, mostly from nerves because there was nothing to do for it anymore, and no matter how long they decided to stay out, dinner would be ready and waiting for them. All he had left to do now was his tie. He had a Youtube video pulled up on his phone’s app already, so he went into the bathroom to try it out.

Loki watched the video twice before attempting the knot himself. It should have been easy enough, but then, he of all people knew that things were never as they appeared. He took a deep breath to stave off frustration and pulled the tie off to start again. He would do this if it _killed_ him.

After a few more times, he looped the silk tie around his neck and made a simple noose knot, because _fuck_ , why was this so hard? He stuck his tongue out at the mirror and rolled his eyes back, gagging, and then he dissolved into giggles and pulled off the tie again. Okay. Okay, he could do this. If he could hack into the world’s best security programs and break out of prisons built specifically for him, he could _certainly_ tie a _knot_.

Maybe it didn’t matter if it wasn’t quite symmetrical. Maybe it was even _charming_ to have an asymmetrical triangle. He frowned at the knot and carefully undid it, retracing his steps, and was about to try again when he saw movement in the mirror. He turned quickly, eyes searching for an escaped fairy—damn it, he thought he’d caught them all—and waited, still, for something to reveal its position. Nothing. He turned back to face the mirror.

“Loki.”

“Mother of—!” He stumbled backwards, and only the bathroom wall stopped him from falling on his ass. The All-Mother stared at him from the bathroom mirror with their usual haughty aloofness.

“ _Language_ , Loki,” scolded Freyja, her lips pursed in disapproval.

“What do you want?” he snarled.

“We have a matter to discuss with you,” said Idunn.

“That’s great,” said Loki. He entertained the thought of grabbing his nail file and gouging a deep scratch in the glass to cut their connection—they needed a smooth surface for manifesting, after all—but that would only leave him with a marred mirror, and they could just scry onto his TV. And he was _not_ scratching his TV. “Get out of my apartment,” he snapped instead.

Gaea sighed. “Are you still holding onto your anger with us? You really must—”

“I don’t think I _must_ do anything for you,” he said coolly. He looked away from them and propped up his phone to use its camera as a mirror instead, focusing on tying the tie in the hopes that they would just go away.

No such luck. But he didn’t expect any less from the All-Traitor.

There was a long pause, pregnant with foreboding, and then Freyja said, “You have been hiding something from us, Loki. And we have discovered the truth.”

He froze, but only for a moment, forcing his shaking hands to finish the knot, to not give anything away. They knew. Perhaps he could play it off, call them insane, deny everything. If they knew, they would punish him. Worse than they already had been doing, with this destiny they were trying to force upon him. If they knew, his fate would be sealed. No more fighting it; what he did was evil, and so he was evil, and in their eyes nothing could change that. No amount of desire to change, because the kid was right: He hadn’t really changed, and they would never let him be anything but a monster. It would confirm everything they thought about Loki.

They would be right.

He could already feel the barred walls closing in.

“Hiding?” he forced himself to say casually. “I’ve only been hiding myself, and that’s because _I don’t want to talk to you._ ” Keep the vehemence. Pretend to be on the same topic as before. Don’t give up on the game before it’s really over.

“No, Loki,” said Gaea. “No more lies.”

“Did you think you could keep this from us?” asked Idunn. “That we wouldn’t find out?”

“I don’t know what you’re—” he began, but he felt in his gut that it was no use. They knew. They knew about—

“We know about your mortal wife,” said Freyja.

The knot his insides had curled into quickly loosened, and he felt he would almost cry with relief, but then it hit him like a bucket of ice water. They knew about Verity.

That was almost worse.

“Oh, right,” said Loki, because he couldn’t bullshit his way out of that fact. There was hard proof, in the New York court records, because he had very carefully gone about this entirely legally for a _reason_. “Sorry, did you want to be invited to the wedding? Because if you will recall, I’m still mad at you,” he added with a glare.

“I was disappointed that you didn’t tell me, your own mother—” said Freyja.

“Not-mother,” muttered Loki.

“—But I’m mostly concerned,” she continued more loudly, pretending she had not heard him. “Mortals are, after all, very… fragile.”

Something in her tone made Loki pause and look up. All three of them were watching him with purposefully blank expressions. He narrowed his eyes.

“…What have you done?” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. They may know he got married to a mortal, but they need not know how important she was to him.

“She is unharmed,” said Idunn, as though that would be reassuring at all.

“ _What_?” It burst from him before he could stop it. Oh well. Anger was understandable, even if he wasn’t attached to the mortal, right? “Where is she?” he demanded.

“She is in Asgardia,” said Gaea. “We would speak to you about—”

“Oh, go to Hel!” he shouted, and then he grabbed his nail file and stabbed it into the glass, making a jagged line across the All-Mother’s image and breaking their connection. He would pay twice over for the outburst, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right then.

Before they could manifest again on another glass surface, Loki yanked on his boots, slipped his scale armor, Gram, and an instant portal into a dimensional pocket, and grabbed his coat on his way out the door.

* * *

 

 

Loki gripped his leg to stop it from moving. He was invisible, but if he made too much noise, someone would notice him, and he wasn’t sure how they would react to having an Asgardian stowaway on their flight. Not wanting to waste time with buying a ticket or going through the tedium that was airport security, he had slipped onto the plane through the wheel well. Before the plane had taken off, he made his way from the cargo hold to an empty seat. Then it was just the matter of the five-hour flight to Oklahoma.

Fuck.

He _would_ teleport, but he did not know how much magic he was going to need when he arrived. Damn his resolution to cut back on its use, but he had to find some ways to do so. He did _not_ want to burn out in the middle of the rescue.

At any rate, he wouldn’t be too far behind whoever took Verity. Asgardian flight vessels were fast, but they couldn’t be ahead by more than two hours. Even if they had taken the Bifrost, he had only just hung up on Verity when the All-Mother called. What could happen in five hours?

The image of Verity falling from the rooftop suite flashed in his mind, and he gripped the armrests on either side of him hard enough to crack them.

When the fourth hour rolled around, the flight attendant announced that they would shortly be flying over Asgardia, and could you please turn off all electronic devices, as the floating realm would interfere with them. Loki stood up and went to the bathroom to put his armor on over his clothes. He glanced in the mirror briefly, wary of seeing the All-Mother there, but there was only his reflection.

Outside the plane was terribly windy and cold. Loki clung to the wing, like he had so long ago with Lorelei, before this whole thing with the All-Mother had even started (or perhaps he was deluding himself with that; perhaps it had always been going on). This time he didn’t have Lorelei or her magical bath bombs, and there would be no soft landing and no hiding from Heimdall. This wasn’t a clandestine mission; the All-Mother knew he was coming, and he just wanted to get there quickly.

The plane approached Asgardia, and Loki prepared to jump, checking the clasps on his coat and sword belt. He wasn’t taking any chances upon landing, invisible or not. Asgardia was, after all, decidedly not a fan of his.

When the timing was right, Loki released his grip on the wing and plummeted.

The air rushed around him as he fell, and he ran the calculations in his head again, wondering if this was how David felt, counting down the seconds. When Asgardia had grown enough in size below him, he released the clasp on his coat and a small parachute blossomed behind him, pulling up a little as it caught in the air, and still he was falling and falling and falling.

Loki’s boots hit Asgardian soil hard, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees with a grunt. Heimdall turned lazily to face him as Loki got to his feet, detaching the parachute and deactivating his invisibility, because there was no point around Heimdall.

“Can’t you put in a slide or something, Heimdall?” asked Loki by way of greeting. “It would really improve the landing.”

“You’re the one who insists on entering Asgardia in unconventional ways, Loki,” said Heimdall. “If you would but call for transport.”

And take the chance of being denied? “Oh, but what fun would that be?” said Loki, straightening his clothes and managing a smirk for Heimdall’s benefit.

“The All-Mother is expecting you,” Heimdall informed him. “They request that you come unarmed,” he added, glancing down at Gram.

“Then perhaps I should never come at all,” said Loki, striding past him. “For even without a sword, I am never unarmed.”

Heimdall was silent as Loki walked away from him, but Loki was pretty sure he heard him softly say, “Indeed.”

Once out of sight—well, direct eyesight anyway—of Heimdall, Loki reactivated his invisibility to avoid notice by other residents and hurried to the palace. He wanted to teleport, but he was still afraid to expend too much magic before he might actually need it. He was fighting his own impatience at this point.

Inside the palace, Loki found himself running. He had to find the All-Mother, and then take back Verity.

But first, he had to prepare a few things.

* * *

 

When Loki burst into the throne room where the All-Mother waited, the ruling triumvirate turned to face him.

“Welcome home, Loki,” said Freyja.

“Where is she?” he demanded, forgoing pleasantries, because they had sacrificed their right to his courtesy and proper conduct when they had kidnapped his best friend. “Where is my wife?”

“Right here.”

Loki froze. The voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, and as he turned it came to him all at once.

_I will take care of you._

_My Loki, my husband._

_I will always take care of you. For eternity._

The dream was suddenly all too clear in his mind, no longer just vague pain and fear, but images. The serpent and the tree. The face under the hood.

The woman standing in the wings of the throne room, hidden in shadow, stepped forward and pulled back her scarf, revealing a head of dark hair and a circlet of twisted gold. Eyes blue and clear like the midday sky.

“Sigyn,” whispered Loki, shock stealing his breath. Sigyn, lost wife of Loki.

Sigyn smiled. “So you remember me after all. Though it has been so long…” She stepped toward him, and he took an involuntary step back, but too late. She leaned in, holding his gaze in hers. “…And you are not the same one,” she continued quietly. “Are you?”

Loki inhaled sharply.

“We explained to you about Loki’s recent rebirth,” said Freyja, and Loki’s eyes flicked to her, his heart pounding in his ears. The All-Mother simply stood by and watched impassively.

“Yes,” said Sigyn, almost sadly. “But Loki is Loki. And I will always be his wife.”

 _For eternity_.

Loki found his breath again and with it, his tongue. “But Odin unbound Loki from Sigyn,” he said, remembering, though the memory was weak and unclear, like an image viewed from underwater.

Sigyn nodded solemnly. “This is true. But there are some bonds that cannot be broken. Bonds of fate.”

Fate. Loki was beginning to despise that word. He would eradicate it from existence if he could.

Sigyn reached for him, and Loki flinched away. She redirected her hand to the sword at his belt, and Loki was still too frozen by shock to stop her. Sigyn lightly pulled Gram halfway out of its sheath and held it there. “Gram,” she said. “The sword Odin left you. You are worthy of it now?” she asked, glancing up.

Now that was a good question. “Would I have it otherwise?” he replied.

Sigyn pushed Gram back into place. “The Sword of Truth,” said Sigyn. “Tell me, Loki: What truth does this mortal wife Verity show you?”

“Truth?” Loki forced a short laugh. “Oh. Her name. Pretty ironic, don’t you think?” Sigyn gave him a perplexed frown. “She’s interesting, for a mortal,” he qualified. “But it’s nothing serious. I’m just having a bit of fun.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes. “But you care for the mortal Verity,” she said, “else you would not be here.”

“I care for all mortals,” Loki muttered begrudgingly, unease starting to creep back into him, tearing at his bravado. He could fake unconcern, but something about this whole set-up was making his heart beat nearly audibly and his stomach twist in knots. “And I’m here because I don’t like when people take my stuff.”

“But you love her,” said Freyja.

Loki laughed loudly at the complete absurdity of that statement, his blood pumping quick and hot and loud. Maybe if he laughed loudly enough, he would drown out the sound of his frightened heart. “What?” he said. He turned to the All-Mother to show her how absurd she was being. “Don’t be ridicu—”

He stopped at the look on her face. She didn’t believe him. She didn’t believe a word he was saying. It wasn’t an unusual reaction; he was Loki. Who _would_ ever believe him? But never had he wanted someone to just believe his lies so much than at this moment. Just once. Because there was no way he could twist _this_ truth to his benefit.

Loki’s smile slid off his face as he realized what was going on. He schooled his features and tightened his jaw, glancing between Sigyn and the All-Mother. “What do you want?” he asked coolly.

“I have only ever wanted your happiness,” said Sigyn, laying a hand on his arm in spite of his flinch. “It is good that you love her. Loyalty is all the more admirable when it is borne of love.”

Loki frowned at her. “You’re not jealous that someone has usurped your place as Loki’s wife?”

“No one can,” she said, smiling softly and somewhat slyly, as though she had a secret. “But jealousy was ever _your_ domain, not mine. And whatever you do, I will always be Loki’s wife. There will be a time for Sigyn and Loki to reunite. I will wait for you.”

“Perhaps don’t hold your breath,” muttered Loki.

Sigyn just smiled at him. It was really beginning to creep him out. “I am satisfied,” she said, turning to the All-Mother. “I will return to my home.”

“If that is truly what you wish, Sigyn,” said Idunn.

“I would not force myself upon Loki,” said Sigyn, “not while he does not know me.”

Loki released a silent sigh of relief behind her, but the uneasy sensation in his gut didn’t abate.

“We are glad you are well, Sigyn,” said Gaea. “Please feel free to make use of all Asgardia has to offer.”

Sigyn nodded. “Perhaps I shall.”

All right, that was enough. Loki couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to get Verity as far away from Asgardia as possible. Maybe they could spend the weekend in Egypt. Maybe a year.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Not yet, Loki,” said Freyja. “There is still a matter we need to discuss with you.”

“I’m not interested in discussing anything with you,” spat Loki. “Return Verity to me and perhaps I’ll consider calling you in the morning. As this matter stands, you have abducted a Midgardian citizen and seem to be holding her ransom.” He chuckled under his breath. “Now who’s the villain, Mother? What would dear Thor think?”

“What we do is for the good of the future of Asgardia,” said Idunn.

“And you’ll sacrifice me for this future that may not even come?” he snapped.

“The old one told us what is to come,” said Freyja. “You were there.”

“He could be lying,” said Loki through his teeth. “You know how Loki can twist the meaning of words.” He clenched his fists. “It’s my future,” he said. _Your future is your own._ _It’s up to you_. “I can change. I have a choice.”

“No, Loki,” said Freyja. “The more you resist, the worse it will be, I fear.”

“You can’t know for sure,” he said, more weakly than before. _I am the destiny you run from—but will never escape!_

“We have seen enough,” said Freyja. “Now will you hear our bargain?”

“You barter for the future with a mortal’s life—” Loki began angrily.

“She will not be harmed,” said Gaea. “But you will never see her again.”

Loki’s mind raced. That could mean a number of things. They couldn’t lock him up—not only would that be counterproductive to their plans, they _knew_ they couldn’t hold him for long—but they could try to lock up Verity. Until the United States government caught wind of the detention of one of their citizens. Or even Thor. But he couldn’t risk telling Thor, nor could he risk war between Asgardia and Midgard. They could send Verity away somewhere or erase her memories of him. Or they were bluffing.

Could he take that bet?

They had been waiting for this, he suddenly knew. For something to hold over his head, the same way they had held the kid’s transgressions over his. Gods, what would they do to him when they found out what he had done? What punishment would he face for self-annihilation, if this was what he got for falling in love?

“What do you want,” he asked at last, “in exchange for her release to me?”

“Your loyalty,” said the All-Mother at once.

“You will return to our service,” said Idunn.

“And complete the tasks you left unfinished before your resignation,” said Gaea. “We _will_ see Lorelei and Sigurd returned home.”

“You may continue to live on Midgard,” said Freyja, “but you will complete missions as we give them to you.”

They watched him, waiting for a response.

“Is that all?” he sneered at last, though he knew he was pressing his luck.

“Well, I could do without the attitude from my son,” said Freyja, returning his sarcasm and surprising Loki into silence. “Do we have a deal?” she asked after a moment.

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Swear it,” commanded the All-Mother.

“I swear,” said Loki through clenched teeth.

Freyja held out her hand. “Your sword.”

Oh, no.

As Loki walked to where they stood at the foot of the dais, he cursed himself. He should have just scryed for Verity himself. He should have skipped the All-Mother entirely and torn the palace apart for Verity. He should have never let her get involved in the first place. Maybe it was better if he never saw her again. It hurt his heart to think of never marrying her, never being her friend, erasing all that.

In the end, he was too selfish to sacrifice his relationship with Verity to deny the All-Mother’s demands.

Fuck. Fuck, he loved her. Love from Loki was the worst. It was selfish love. A mean love. A cruel love. Verity deserved something better.

Damn him. Damn him.

Loki drew Gram and wondered, for a mad moment, what would happen if he stabbed the All-Mother with it. What truth would they be forced to face? And Freyja—what would she in particular see? But fear of the turning point held him back, and he handed the Sword of Truth over to her.

Freyja examined the sword and held out her hand once more. “Your hand,” she said loftily.

“Mother, please,” whispered Loki, nothing left to him but to plead for mercy.

“Your hand, Loki,” she said firmly.

Loki clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had never felt so trapped in his life. He couldn’t think of a way out of this. He should have made a powerless copy of Gram. He should have left it at his apartment. He should have never retrieved the damned thing in the first place.

Loki slowly pulled off his glove, giving the All-Mother time to change her mind, but of course she didn’t. He held out his hand, and she drew Gram’s edge across his palm. He hissed as blood welled up from the relatively shallow wound. Shallow in physicality only.

“Swear it,” said the All-Mother again.

In that moment, there was only one truth revealed to him: He was royally screwed.

“I swear,” he bit out, “to serve as your agent.”

Gram’s magic rushed through him. The sword would hold him to his word. Loki didn’t know what the consequences of breaking his promise would be.

The All-Mother wiped the blade clean, satisfied, and Loki dropped his hand. She handed Gram back, and he resheathed it.

“Where is she?” he asked numbly. He wanted to get out of here. Take Verity and get out. Maybe flee to space. Would Angela let him hide with her for a while? They got along all right, sometimes. She might like Verity. Verity would like Sera, for sure.

Freyja looked at him with pity. “Loki…”

“Where is she?” he repeated, refusing her worthless apologies. No, she didn’t get to pity him for hurting him. She would never get anything from him again. His service, but not his love. His fealty, but not his loyalty. Never.

“Loki, please know we get no pleasure from doing this to you,” Freyja pleaded quietly.

“Then let me go,” he said fiercely, raising his gaze to glare at her. Norns, he hated her. She thought he was the child version of himself, and she still treated him like this. Traitor. Heartless wench. He would—

“Where is she?” he demanded once more.

The All-Mother exchanged glances and then looked to Sigyn, who still stood nearby, watching everything unfold.

Sigyn grimaced. “I would not keep her from you,” she said, which Loki thought was rather cryptic, until she continued, “The old one is watching over her.”

Loki’s eyes widened in horror, and he glanced back and forth between Sigyn and the All-Mother before turning and sprinting out of the throne room, through the palace, to the dungeons.

Damn them.

Damn them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm sorry it took so long. I have no excuses. I'll try to post more regularly in the future. ^^;
> 
> And all right, I have a question for you, dear readers: Would anyone be interested in a bonus chapter from a special guest's POV, or should I stick to my Verity-Loki pattern? I've been debating. It would increase the fic's chapter count from 12 to 13, and the bonus chapter would come next. What do you think?


	11. Intermission: Bait and Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren’t going according to plan. King Loki aims to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's no sense in sitting on this. Here's the bonus chapter. Next chapter will be back to Verity. :)

 

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

(Sun Tzu, _The Art of War_ )

* * *

 

 

Things weren’t going according to plan. They hadn’t been for a while, that much was clear. It had only become apparent during that War of Angels catastrophe—or rather, the lack thereof.

_I know you. I know everything you are… and… and I love you. Very, very much._

…What.

So Odin was a bust—if the All-Father was so accepting of this younger version of Loki, there was little chance to get in between them. After all, Loki had always craved a father’s affection, whether he would admit it or not.

That left the All-Mother and, well, _that_ wasn’t too difficult, seeing as Loki the Younger (and, hmm, there had to be a better nickname for the squirt that wouldn’t make _him_ feel so _old_ ) already resented her. Not enough, though, and that would have to be remedied in due time. He would spare no expense in shaping the bean sprout’s hatred of Asgardia to his own ends.

Thor was unworthy—just as he should be, thank the Norns _that_ hadn’t changed—so it was the most opportune time to strike. He just had a few more pieces to push around, and then…

And then the mortal Verity Willis interfered. In his haste to mold his younger self into a Loki that would attack and overcome Thor, he had forgotten about her. His younger self had made a friend—and then he had _married her_.

Married her! What a fool!

First he had told her _everything_ , gone on some fool’s errand to distract himself, and then come back and _married_ her. What _was_ this little nerd _doing_ with his life? He was wasting it, that’s what he was doing. When he could be plotting the fall of Asgard and his dolt of a brother Thor, he was gallivanting around with some _mortal_ who wouldn’t even _be_ there when he finally completed his task!

What a damned fool. He would have to make certain to break them up somehow. It wouldn’t do to have her get in the way.

He couldn’t outright kill her, of course; that would be much too straightforward and would only serve to turn the sapling _against_ him, when Loki really needed him on his side, if they were going to destroy Thor and Asgard together. But there was more than one way to skin a cat (which he knew for sure; Victor was good for experiments like that).

He watched them for a few days after the ridiculous proposal (not very creative; he could have done it better, he thought, with fireworks and music and possibly screaming), but he couldn’t get his mind off the fact that the fool was going to _marry_ a _mortal_.

And then it came to him.

Marriage.

Yes, that might be just the thing…

He stepped sideways and backwards and found her easily enough.

Sigyn. Loki’s wife.

Or, his first wife.

It was on the cusp of Ragnarok, and there was quite a lot of excitement—enough that no one noticed if one more Asgardian went missing and never returned again. Everyone, Loki knew, would assume that Sigyn was lost, along with the many, many other Asgardians and inhabitants of the Nine Realms that never returned after Thor once again found his way back to Midgard.

Sigyn was no great warrior, not like Sif or Brunnhilde, but she still fought bravely. That is, until Loki came to retrieve her.

“Loki!” she cried, taking a step back when he appeared before her. She looked him up and down, shock and dismay marring her beautiful face. Ah yes, the years had perhaps taken their toll on him; years and hatred and _burning_.

“What has happened?” she asked, her eyes wide. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. How sweet and loyal. He had forgotten many things, his memory as deep as it was, and only the upcoming betrothal had reminded him that Loki had married before.

“A great many things,” he said, “but there is no time to explain. We must away. I have come to save you from fate.”

“But you—” she began, shrinking away.

“I am from the future,” he told her. “And I come to you now to seek your help in restoring our future to its glory. It is in danger of breaking, much like your present.” He held out his hand, leaning forward as though in supplication, leaving just enough space that she could pull away and refuse him, but not without feeling badly about it.

“Come with me, my love,” he said, putting as much desperation into his plea as he could, and he could see her heart break in her eyes. “Let me save you.”

And she had taken his hand.

Oh, the faithful fool.

* * *

 

 

He brought her to a tower, thinking the trope quite apt for the circumstances, and wove a tale of the future fit for the might of Asgard, much as he had told the All-Mother, omitting, of course, his role as antagonist to King Thor. That part did not matter much anyway; it was a given, and Loki knew well that the roles one chose to play were binding.

Sigyn played her part well, too, listening with rapt attention to his tale, and when he was finished, she frowned thoughtfully, which was only so pleasing because it was exactly what the listener of a story should do after a tale was finished.

“And what of the present?” she asked.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “A good question, and one that brings us to why we are _here_ , in _this_ time. I’m afraid my younger self has fallen off track, and his doing so threatens our future happiness.” Who “our” was, he left unspecified. “We must put him back on his path to ensure that the future comes as swiftly as possible.”

“What is he doing?” she asked, her brows creasing in concern.

“He’s making some terribly embarrassing mistakes,” he said, glancing away to imbue his words with the proper amount of shame to put her off from asking for more details. “Hopefully we can rectify them. Suffice it to say, he is focusing on the wrong sorts of things. We must draw his attention back to Asgardia and refocus his efforts.”

Sigyn nodded, but she was still frowning in a way that worried him. Was she not convinced? She suddenly reached out to him, and he flinched away before he could stop himself, realizing too late that she meant only to stroke his face.

“I wish you would not make yourself so distant,” she said softly. “You have always done so. But if you have rescued me from the past, then surely…”

Oh Norns… Beautiful and loyal and _sentimental_. There had been so many incarnations of Loki since the Loki she knew, he couldn’t even imagine feeling anything for this poor creature. She was beautiful, to be sure, but her affection was somewhat… vexing. He didn’t have _time_ for this.

“Much has happened since Sigyn and Loki were last united,” he said, taking her hand and placing it in her lap. A gentle rejection. “Ragnarok, and several deaths, and time. Perhaps someday…” He trailed off and let his gaze wander away, the very picture of a Byronic hero.

“Yes,” said Sigyn softly, after a long pause. “Someday.”

He turned back to her and smiled. “You must be patient,” he said. “For now...”

He gave her a sleeping draught to keep her out of the way for a few months and slowly wove her dreams into his younger counterpart’s, and then he watched and waited and schemed on the side.

And gagged at how gross Loki the Younger and his mortal pet were. Whenever the celery stick wasn’t _sniveling_ about something, they were rutting, and _honestly_ , it was just _embarrassing_. For one thing, he _really_ needed to work on his form. Sometimes Loki was tempted to just burst in and show him how it should be done. For crying out loud…

So watching them was, for the most part, unbearable, but at the same time, there were points where he couldn’t look away… Times when the mortal would challenge him or scream at him, stomp out, only to come back later… Why would she do that?

And why did his younger self _tolerate_ it? He would never have allowed someone to speak to him like that, and she was rather homely, so he certainly couldn’t be keeping her around for her looks. If he wanted to rut with a beauty, Lorelei was always somewhere around.

But there was something about this mortal Verity Willis, wasn’t there? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it…

Regardless, she could not be allowed to interfere much longer. She had to be disposed of in some capacity or another. After all, she _wasn’t_ going to _stay_ in the long run. It was inevitable that she would reject them eventually, leave and never look back, because that was the way with Loki. Never, _ever_ loved. Not really.

The question was only _when_ she would leave, and Loki would make sure it was soon. He just had to prepare Sigyn, the All-Mother, and his younger self accordingly, and then he could push the mortal so hard that she would _have_ to leave. Then the broken-hearted nerdling would have nowhere else to turn, and Loki could show him why they all deserved to fall.

* * *

 

 

The anniversary of such a foolish mistake seemed the proper timing, so he sent for the All-Mother with a sigil burned into the wall. They didn’t arrive for another hour, during which he watched the asparagus shoot wrangle escaped fairies back into glass houses, and when they opened the door to his cell, they looked displeased.

“What is it?” demanded Freyja without preamble. “If you dared to call on us, it had best be—”

“I can’t be certain,” he interrupted, uninterested in whether this had inconvenienced her or not, “seeing as I am kept so well in this cell, but I believe that it is about time for Sigyn to make an appearance.”

The All-Mother stared at him blankly. It wouldn’t surprise him if they had forgotten who Sigyn even was, but then Idunn spoke.

“Sigyn of Asgard?” she asked in a shocked whisper. “Wife of Loki?”

He nodded. “The very same. She should return right around now.”

“But she was lost in Ragnarok,” said Gaea.

“We all were,” he pointed out. “Like many Asgardians, she was brought back. And like all Asgardians, she should also be returned to Asgard.”

“You know where she can be found?” asked Freyja.

Aye, he did. He described the tower to them, vaguely, as though speaking of a long-forgotten memory, and when they turned to leave, he bid them stop once more.

“When… when she arrives, I should like to see her,” he said slowly.

Freyja frowned suspiciously. “Why?”

“I would think that obvious,” he said quietly.

Good Gaea’s eyes softened, and Idunn blinked in surprise, but Freyja was unmoved.

“Only if she wishes to see you,” she said, somewhat sharply.

Ah. There was a raw nerve there. So things with Odin were not going well. How delightful.

Still, he had successfully planted the idea that he and Sigyn had some measure of bond. It was something he could work with later.

The All-Mother left to retrieve Sigyn, who would be waking up as they arrived, with no memory of how she came to be there, though the essence and urgency of their conversation would be subconsciously planted. While he waited for their return, he watched Loki the Younger meticulously chop up vegetables and pretended he was on Hell’s Kitchen, screaming over younger self’s shoulder.

_This salad is so fresh, it had to live with its auntie and its uncle in Bel Air!_

Eventually, his cell opened again, and he stretched his fingers in anticipation for the real fun. The All-Mother entered, with Sigyn in tow, and he stood up quickly, as though eager for their reunion.

Sigyn looked just as surprised to see him as she did the first time, and they put on quite the show for the All-Mother as Loki took her hands and briefed her once more on current events: He had come from the future to ensure that King Thor’s Golden Age occurred as it should (in his opinion), and found that the younger version of himself was getting off track, having quit the All-Mother’s service in aiding Asgard.

“And then that mortal wife of his,” he added, continuing without skipping a beat in his tale, and even when all four of them started, eyes widening and backs straightening, he didn’t pause. “She has been a terrible distraction, and I fear the unhappiness she might bring us will—”

“Stop,” commanded Freyja, cutting the air with her hand. “What is this ‘mortal wife’ you speak of?”

He blinked at her. “Er,” he said after a pregnant pause, “did I not mention that before?”

The All-Mother glared at him, their eyes practically screaming at him, _No you did not mention that before and why have you kept it from us this long?_

“When did this happen?” asked Freyja, her voice low.

“Recently, I think,” he said. “And from what you tell me, she has become an even worse distraction than I thought. How long _has_ it been since he dropped by to see you…?”

The All-Mother exchanged glances, and Loki suppressed a smirk.

“Loki married another?” asked Sigyn quietly. “A mortal?”

He gave her an apologetic smile, but he said nothing. Let her draw her own conclusions.

And let the All-Mother, too, draw their own conclusions. While he sat back in his throne and watched, the All-Mother debated how to approach this new problem, and Sigyn stood to the side, quiet and thoughtful. The All-Mother would surely confront the younger Loki, which would put him on the defensive. If they chose to blackmail him by threatening the mortal or at least her unique position in his life, it would deepen his distrust of the All-Mother and make his connection to the mortal seem like a chain. If they chose to offer their protection, he would not trust them with her, as suspicious of the All-Mother’s intentions as he already was. Either way, the revelation of his secret marriage would mean the beginning of the end of their relationship; it could not be sustained under such a weight of paranoia and mistrust, and the one secret he had been keeping from her and would surely never divulge would make it hurt all the worse.

And for the mortal’s part, Loki was sure that she wouldn’t stick around for _that_. It wouldn’t be worth it. It was never worth it.

“I would know more about this woman before we make any decisions,” Freyja was saying. She looked to Loki. “And I would know what his current intentions for her are. Who is she? What does he want from her?”

He looked away and shrugged. “I know not,” he said, pointedly refusing to meet her eyes. “It has been too long to remember.”

She considered him for a long time, and he waited patiently for her to decide what this meant. Finally, she turned back to her companions.

“Then we will have her brought here and see how we can turn this event to our advantage,” she said. “I like this not, but if it will bring Loki back to Asgardia—”

“We might also offer protection,” said Gaea, and Loki had to stop himself from cackling. He would have to wait until they left. “After all, mortals are…”

“It is decided, then,” said Idunn, when Gaea could not finish, and here she turned to Loki. “Where is this mortal? Where might we find her?”

He told them of a spell to locate her, and they were just about to agree to send the Warriors Three to collect her when Sigyn spoke once more.

“May I go to retrieve her?” she asked, and the All-Mother turned to her in surprise. “I should like to meet this mortal,” she explained, and she lifted her chin regally. “I will bring her to Asgardia, if you will show me the way.”

“You will need someone to escort you to Manhattan,” said Idunn.

“I will go with her,” Loki put in brightly, and he was not disappointed when the All-Mother sharply said, “No,” all at once.

“If I have a portal spell, it will be easy enough to bring her back,” said Sigyn. “And this way, we need not involve anyone else in this matter.”

This they could all agree on, and the All-Mother left with Sigyn to arrange for her transport to Manhattan. And now all Loki needed to do was wait for them all to screw everything up.

It would be a delightful show.

* * *

 

 

Sigyn successfully delivered the mortal Verity Willis to the All-Mother, who had promptly gone to call Loki the Younger, leaving Sigyn and Verity with him.

Sigyn stood watching Verity curiously where she lay on the floor. Sigyn had incapacitated her with all the usual subtlety of Asgardians—with a blow to the head—but she was fine. Just knocked out.

“She is very pretty,” said Sigyn softly.

Loki made a point of not looking over, and eventually the All-Mother came to bring Sigyn to the throne room, in order to prepare for the young one’s arrival.

“What of the mortal?” asked Idunn. “We cannot leave her here.”

“This is the most secure place for her, away from prying eyes,” said Loki, leaning boredly on the arm of his great stone chair. “She will not be harmed.”

The All-Mother eyed him suspiciously, and while he did not blame them, it was rather irritating.

“She will be safe,” said Sigyn, and Loki met her eyes long enough to assure her of this with a slight nod.

Freyja did not seem so sure, but after studying Loki for a while, she finally consented to leave the mortal with him for safekeeping. He would think it very stupid of them, but the fact was, he wasn’t going to hurt her.

Yet.

When they were finally alone, he deliberated for a few minutes before finally giving in and strolling across the room to where Verity Willis lay on the stone floor. She was on her side, her cheek pressed against the stone, her red hair hiding her face and her long pea coat covering the rest of her body. She looked like any other unconscious mortal on the ground.

Loki walked a circle around her, and when he had come back around to her front, he crouched down next to her. She was missing a glove on one hand, the hand splayed out against the dark floor, as though she was reaching for something. There was a ring on her finger—a golden rose, the _engagement_ ring that his younger counterpart had spent a good deal of time acquiring and enchanting before Loki knew what the brat was even going to do with such a gaudy piece of jewelry.

Very carefully, so as not to touch her, he slipped the ring from her finger and tried it on.

Hmm. Nothing.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he had certainly expected _something_. But this ring meant nothing to him. He pulled it off and lifted the mortal’s hand before he knew what he was doing, and then he froze in the act of sliding the ring back onto her finger, holding it right at the tip of her short, manicured nail.

Oh. _Oh._

Gross.

He roughly pushed the ring onto her finger and then stood up and stomped away, turning his back on her, as though hurrying from a crime scene. But the sudden rush of shame wasn’t enough to keep him away, and he found himself circling around and crouching next to her once more.

What hold could this mortal possibly have on him? She was nothing special. She had an intriguing power, but surely _that_ would get aggravating after a while. Someone knowing his secrets and seeing through him all the time… That would be terribly infuriating. He didn’t _want_ anyone to know everything. It never made anything better.

He tilted his head and brushed her hair out of her face. She still wasn’t anything special. There were prettier mortals out there. Ones he wouldn’t have to _work_ so hard for. What did his younger self see in this poor creature? What was there to love? She was willful and not especially kind, she yelled at him every chance she got, and she was so very flawed and human and—

_I know you. I know everything you are… and… and I love you. Very, very much._

He yanked his hand away from where it had apparently been _healing_ the wound on her head from Sigyn’s blow without him realizing it, and he stood up and swore, the All-Father’s words echoing in his head, swimming with the knowledge that this mortal _knew_ everything and still chose to stand by the Brussels sprout’s side.

Well. Not for long. He would prove to himself—his younger self, he would prove it to him—that no one stood by Loki for very long. It wasn’t about what they did, it was about what they were. And what they were was unlovable and forever scorned.

He didn’t _want_ to be loved.

And there was no room for happy endings in his future.


	12. Break My Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Verity comes face to face with a frightening prospect and has to make a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. Enjoy!

 

_I never loved nobody fully, always one foot on the ground._

(Regina Spektor, “Fidelity”) 

 

The surface she lay on was cold and hard. She felt it against her cheek and hands as she came to and hissed as she became aware of the pain in her knees and head. Her head ached dully, throbbing at the back of her skull, and she vaguely remembered falling, but why that might have happened was unclear. She was just having coffee with Thor… and then she met that strange woman…

Oh.

Verity opened her eyes. By the look of the dimly lit chamber, she was definitely not on the streets of Manhattan anymore. She slowly pushed herself up, stiff and bruised, and looked around. The chamber was large and built from gray stone, with a high ceiling, somewhat like an ancient castle hall, only lacking in decoration, aside from the designs carved into the stone. Probably Asgardian architecture. Did Asgardians not need windows?

“Good morning, starshine.”

Verity turned and gasped. She pushed herself backwards and scrambled to her feet, keeping her eyes on the strange—yet terribly, _awfully_ familiar—figure lounging in the stone chair against the wall.

“You…” Verity stammered. “You’re…”

Loki—the old Loki, the one she remembered from news programs in her youth, the one who (she had been told) _burned_ —grinned. Or rather, bared his teeth. She wasn’t positive that there was any humor in that wrinkled smile.

“Me. I’m always me,” he said. “It’s good to see you, too, dear. My apologies for the unnecessarily sneaky abduction. Though I’m _certain_ you would have come with me had I simply _asked_.”

Sarcasm. He was right; she wouldn’t have. “What do you want?” she asked, not sounding quite as fierce as she wanted to.

The older Loki—whose fashion sense, it seemed, had not improved with age—tapped a black-polished finger on his chin and then stood. “A great many things,” he said, stepping down from the dais on which his seat was built. “You don’t happen to have a cronut on you, do you? There’s quite a dearth of them in this cell. And they discontinued the McRib again, which is just—Ugh. _Why?_ ” He threw his hands up in frustration, and the gesture was so familiar to Verity that her stomach dropped in dread. Old Loki began to walk toward her and she took an involuntary step back and then realized what she had done and stopped. She shifted her foot back forward and held her ground. No, she wasn’t giving him that.

Old Loki paused and smirked. “Ah,” he said, “I’d forgotten how stubborn you could be.”

She wasn’t giving him that either. He hadn’t forgotten; he was testing her. “I don’t believe you,” she told him.

“Your faith is astounding,” he said, amused. “And misplaced.”

“Then I’ll just ask: Are you the Loki I know?”

Old Loki clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Ah, little Verity,” he said, sighing. “I’m afraid you’re not asking the right questions.”

“No such thing,” she retorted. “There are no right or wrong questions. There are only answers to those questions.”

He actually laughed. The sound echoed in the chamber and rang in her ears and made her heart clench and goose bumps crawl up her arms.

“Perhaps,” he said, grinning. “But only one question matters right now. I’m sure you’re even now asking yourself…” He took a few steps toward her again and changed direction to circle around her as he spoke. “Do you _really_ want to know?”

Verity’s heart pounded against her rib cage. He was getting closer, circling in, and an image of a snake came to mind, which made sense, because she felt like a rabbit, frozen in place, her mind racing for a way out.

“Aren’t some truths better left unknown?” he said. “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it, Verity Truthseer. What would you do if it were the truth?” He advanced on her suddenly, and she was startled into taking several quick steps back. She gasped as her back hit the wall, and he slammed a hand next to her head, boxing her in.

“Do you still think you can save us?” he hissed. “Do you think you, Verity Willis of the Brave Heart, can stop the wheels’ turning? Do you think your water can extinguish this burning?”

“I believe in him,” she said quietly, looking away from the madness in his eyes. “I don’t believe the future is set.”

“Cute.” When she looked up, his sneer had become a lopsided smile. Then his hand took hold of her jaw, his fingers gripping her hard enough to bruise, and she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just his unchecked Asgardian strength. “ _Foolish_ ,” he murmured. “And now you’ve squandered our time with silly questions. I’ll give you a hint: The question is not _who_ am I, but _how_ am I.” He released her jaw only to brush a thumb along her cheekbone. She winced, but he ignored it and studied her face, his fingers tracing her jawline.

“Our time together is coming to a close,” he said. “And it’s such a pity that it should have to end so soon.” He slid his fingers under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. He smiled and held her gaze as he said, in a voice like molasses, “We did love you so.”

Verity’s eyes widened, and Old Loki smirked and retracted his hand, turning away. Before she could move, one of the walls of the cell suddenly burst with a loud crack. Verity’s legs collapsed under her in shock and she slid down the wall. Loki—her Loki, the one she knew for sure—leapt through the hole in the wall, Gram in one hand, and glanced quickly around the chamber.

“Loki!” Verity choked out, and he turned to find her, taking an automatic step toward her. His movement aborted as he abruptly noticed the other one, but Old Loki didn’t even spare him a glance. He was walking at a leisurely pace away from Verity, back to his seat.

“Take her,” said Old Loki, waving a hand. “I finished with her a long time ago.”

Loki’s grip tightened on Gram, but the old one ignored him. Loki sidestepped, putting more distance between himself and his older counterpart, and then broke into a run to Verity. She reached for him and struggled to get to her feet, and he took her hand and pulled her up. Her legs still felt like jelly underneath her, but she managed to stay standing while Loki gripped her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes darting over her.

“Yeah,” she said, checking him, too, because he looked frantic and exhausted. There was crusted blood on his left hand, which was curled around Gram’s hilt. Before she could ask, he grabbed her hand again.

“Let’s go,” he said, and then turned and ran, pulling her along behind him. They jumped through the jagged hole in the wall and Loki yanked her to the side. She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Old Loki sitting on his throne again. He smirked and wiggled his fingers at her, and then the bricks began to put themselves back in order, obscuring the sight, and Loki pulled her down the hall. They reached the open doors at the end, and the room they entered was familiar to Verity, though she had only seen it through Loki’s camera phone during Sigurd’s rescue mission. This time there were no strange creatures or open lava-filled gaps in the floor. It was just a wide, rather suspiciously vacant corridor.

“It’s empty,” she said, surprised.

“Good to know,” muttered Loki. He ran forward and Verity struggled to keep up, her legs still numb with shock. There was nothing in the room of Incredibly Deadly Traps, but Loki flinched every once in a while as they sprinted across the long room.

“It’s not real,” she told him. “It’s not real.” She repeated it like a mantra, as much to reassure Loki as to drown out Old Loki’s words in her head.

_Do you still think you can save us?_

_Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?_

_Do you really want to know?_

“It’s not real,” she whispered. Loki flinched again.

When they finally escaped the room, they were in another empty corridor, and then another, and another, and Verity could feel a stitch forming in her side. When Loki finally stopped them, Verity was breathing heavily.

“I’m out of shape,” she wheezed.

“Sorry,” said Loki, pulling off his coat. He had his armor on under it, but it looked off somehow, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. “Put this on,” he ordered, holding out his coat.

Verity took it and began to slip it on over her own coat. “Why?”

“It has an invisibility charm on it,” he said, glancing around the corner they had stopped at. They were in a darkened hallway, but Verity could see bright light from around the corner. “I really don’t like the idea of you in Asgardia.”

“So far it hasn’t made a very positive impression,” she said. “I’ll give it two stars on Yelp.”

Loki chuckled under his breath and raised a hand to brush a thumb over her cheek, smiling softly. “That’s my girl.”

_We did love you so_.

Verity froze, inhaling sharply, and Loki saw. He frowned and dropped his hand.

“Fuck,” he muttered and turned away again.

“Loki—”

“What did he say to you?” He didn’t look at her.

“Noth—” she began, but the alarms went off in her head at her own lie, and she bit her lip.

They had never talked about it. He had never said it. Not even as a joke. They were married and they had sex and they enjoyed each other’s company and he was her best friend, but there had been no talk of love. Of need, sure. Of trust and like… But never love. Verity had always thought that maybe love was too _dangerous_ for Loki. Someone so enamored with chaos and mired in trouble couldn’t afford love. Not that he _couldn’t_ love, but maybe that he couldn’t _let_ himself.

But maybe that was all an excuse for Verity to avoid her own feelings on the matter. Because love was complicated for _her_. Because she wasn’t sure if _she_ could love. Not with the way she lived, the way she knew people, the way she could never forgive a lie. The way lies had destroyed her in the past.

“Verity.” Loki grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. There was anger in them, but also fear. Mostly fear. Her stomach twisted in knots. “What did he tell you?”

Verity bit her lip again. It could be a trick. _We did love you so_. There could be a lie in there somewhere, something she still didn’t know. It could still be that the future wasn’t set in stone, that the older Loki was someone else, from somewhere else.

_Do you really want to know?_

What if he didn’t actually love her? What if he did?

What if knowing either way changed everything?

“Verity?”

She had looked away again, so now she only heard the creeping, high-pitched fear in his voice. She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t keep this from him and betray his trust. And Verity, always the seeker of truth, found that she had to know.

She raised her gaze to his again and took a deep breath. “He told me… He told me you love me.”

Loki inhaled sharply and didn’t exhale. His eyes widened marginally, and he stood there, frozen and staring at her, his eyes not really seeing.

It was true.

When he finally breathed out again, it seemed like an eternity later. “Oh,” he said. His eyes darted around to look anywhere else. “Oh. Well—” He shook his head. “No. Let’s just—Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” whispered Verity.

Loki released her shoulders and took her hand and didn’t look at her again as he turned the corner and led her down the hall. It was brightly lit and decorated with curtains and statues along the walls. Loki walked at a brisk pace, not quite a run, his grip on her hand almost too tight. They turned a few corners and ascended and descended several flights of stairs at this pace, ducking into narrow passages a few times, once behind a statue. Verity caught sight of a kitchen through a small door, but mostly she just saw empty corridors. The palace—for that’s where they must be—seemed to be deserted. What time was it? Where was everyone? Or was Loki purposefully using rarely walked wings?

“Trickster!”

Loki winced and paused mid-step. Verity looked over her shoulder at the two brawny men marching toward them, both with hard expressions and weapons on their belts.

“Loki,” she whispered.

He pulled her around in front of him, putting himself between her and the warriors, and readjusted his grip on her hand.

“Be quiet,” he whispered. “Stay close.” He didn’t quite look at her when he spoke, and it took her a moment to realize it was because he couldn’t see her. She squeezed his hand in response. Then he turned around, keeping his hands behind his back, and faced the approaching Asgardians.

“Gentlemen,” he said cheerfully. “What a pleasure to see you roaming the halls so late at night.”

“What were you just hissing, snake?” demanded one of the men. He had a large dark beard and a broadsword and hate in his eyes, and Verity realized that she was about to witness exactly why Loki hated being in Asgardia so much.

“What, you never talk to yourself when you’re alone?” said Loki.

“Loki talking to himself has ever been a foreboding omen,” said the other man, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Both of the men were bigger than Loki, but not actually bigger than Thor, Verity thought, though they loomed over Loki in a way that Verity had never seen Thor do.

“All right,” said Loki with a surrendering sigh. “I heard you coming; your footfalls are so very loud, after all, and I couldn’t help myself. I was whispering, _Mischief, mischief_ under my breath. Just messing with you.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Why am I disinclined to believe you, Lie-smith?” said the first man.

“Extreme prejudice?” suggested Loki.

“You were seen leaving the All-Mother with a sword in your hands,” said the second man, narrowing his eyes. “What nefarious deed are you up to now, Trickster?”

The man took a step toward him and Loki backed up, pushing Verity.

“Nothing nefarious!” protested Loki. “ _Never_ nefarious. I had an audience with the All-Mother. Words were exchanged. Nothing more.”

A lie. Verity hadn’t expected that one. She glanced down at the blood on his hand.

“And the sword?” asked the first man.

“There was a thief in the vicinity,” said Loki; a half-truth. “The sword was merely for protection.” True, though Verity noted that he didn’t specify _whose_.

What happened next happened very fast. Loki had been backing up as he spoke, but suddenly the second man surged forward and grabbed him, tearing his hand from Verity’s. The man slammed Loki up against the wall. Verity gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Loki’s back hit the wall hard and he grunted and grabbed the man’s wrists to support himself automatically.

“Does this thief happen to be a silver-tongued Frost Giant runt?” the man snapped. “Or are you lying through those pretty teeth of yours?”

“You really think I’m pretty?” said Loki, and he squeaked as the man shoved him harder against the wall. “I’m not lying!” lied Loki. “Ask the All-Mother!” He groped at the wall with one hand and turned his palm out and wiggled his fingers briefly. Verity sidestepped around the warriors and reached for Loki’s hand to let him know she was there. She squeezed his fingers tight and held on.

“You’re always lying,” spat the first man. “Someone should have put you out of _our_ misery a long time ago.”

The second man bared his teeth in a feral grin. “And now you’re all grown up, no one will care. You should never have returned to Asgardia.”

Loki’s good-natured mask hardened. “And you think Thor will let you get away with it?” asked Loki darkly. “After all he did to bring me back?”

“You can’t hide behind big brother forever,” sneered the man holding Loki against the wall. He slammed Loki against the wall once more, and Verity winced at the crack his head made against the stone. Loki groaned.

“Thor will understand that it’s for the good of Asgardia,” said the first man.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” snarled Loki fiercely, though his eyes were still a little glazed over from the blow to his head. “I’ve never done _anything_ to _you_ , yet you insist on creating a monster. Unhand me.”

“Explain why you visited the All-Mother armed,” demanded the second man.

“She asked me to!”

“Liar!”

“Come, man, use your head,” said Loki. “Or have you forgotten how? Here, I’ll show you.”

He yanked his hand from Verity’s and grabbed the second man’s head with both hands to smash their foreheads together. The man, stunned, loosened his grip on Loki, and Loki pushed his arms to the side and kicked him in the stomach. Loki flung out his hand for Verity again as the man stumbled back, and when Verity grabbed his hand, Loki darted to her side, scooping her up, and dashed down the hall. The two men shouted after him, and Verity, her arms wrapped around Loki’s neck, watched them stumble into a pursuit.

“Loki,” she said.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” he muttered breathlessly, and he turned a corner and abruptly skidded to a halt. Verity whipped her head around to look forward again and saw that they had emerged into an outside corridor, stopped right on the ledge.

“I’m sorry,” said Loki, inexplicably, until he continued, “I promised we would never do this again.”

Brief memories of cold air whipping her hair around her face and the strangest sensation of her organs floating weightlessly in her abdomen came back to Verity. And then she looked back and saw the two men emerging from the dimly lit hallway behind them.

“Jump,” she said, and Loki stepped up onto and off of the ledge at the end of the corridor.

They didn’t fall very far before Loki found his feet and was running down the wall. Verity squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the weightless feeling. She felt Loki jump again, felt the impact of a landing, and then he muttered a guttural word. There was a flash of green light that would have been blinding if she had her eyes open, and the air was suddenly warm and musty. When she opened her eyes at last, she and Loki were in another dark room. It was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering in through a curtained window, but Verity could see the outlines of furniture.

Loki let her down and then dropped to his knees, holding his head.

“Loki, what—” Verity began.

“I just… dizzy…” He moaned. “Ow... I forgot how hard his head was.”

“That was stupid of you,” said Verity, reaching down to lay a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Give me a minute,” he said, getting to his feet. He rubbed his forehead and straightened his clothes, and then he walked over to a wardrobe against the wall of the room.

Verity looked around and now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see that they were in a bedroom. There was a large bed on the opposite side of the room, covered in furs, and a writing desk sat next to the wardrobe. It looked dusty and the room itself was stuffy, as though it hadn’t been used in a long time.

“Where are we?” she asked, sliding out of his coat to become visible again.

“Huh? The palace. Oh, you mean this room.” Loki began to push the wardrobe to the side. He grunted with the effort and it slid across the stone floor loudly. “It’s, er, my room. Not that I’ve used it in recent memory.”

“Your room?” Now she looked closer. There were bookshelves against two walls and two doors leading elsewhere, but before she could examine the room further, Loki grabbed her arm.

“Come on,” he said, dragging her to the wall, which had a faintly glowing yellow circle on it where the wardrobe used to be. “No time for sightseeing.”

“What’s that?”

“Single-use portal,” he explained. “I set it up before seeing the All-Mother. It’ll take us to Broxton. Hurry, it’s not long-lasting.”

Loki led her through the portal, and they stepped onto a cold street in the middle of town. The street was deserted, except for a few cars. There was a small restaurant glowing next to them with fluorescent light, but it looked like it was about to close. The sudden cold air made goosebumps rise on Verity’s arms underneath her own coat, and she hugged Loki’s coat closer and shivered.

“This way,” said Loki, turning to walk quickly down the street. Verity had to jog to keep up with him, but he didn’t slow until they reached a small motel. “Wait here,” he ordered, reaching inside the reception office for an umbrella in the stand by the door. It wasn’t raining or snowing, but Loki opened it anyway and held it over Verity. He muttered something and waved his hand in a circle under the umbrella and the outer edge glowed green. Then, without any explanation, he pushed her to stand next to the window and entered the office. Verity watched him through the window, still gripping his coat and the enchanted umbrella. He rang the bell on the desk and a sleepy-eyed woman shuffled from the back office. Loki spoke to her briefly, gesturing behind himself, looking terribly rushed, and the woman nodded quickly. Loki handed her a card and she scanned it and gave him a key. Then he rushed back out to Verity.

“112,” he told her. “Hang onto that umbrella.”

When they reached the room, Loki even made her carry the umbrella inside, still open, and he quickly locked the door behind him. He began to mutter under his breath and his fingertips glowed green. He ran his hands around the doorframe and then moved to the window to do the same. Verity watched him and slowly lowered the umbrella, and when he didn’t say anything, she closed it and set it in the corner. As he worked on the window, Verity slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the motel bed, folding Loki’s coat in her lap. She hadn’t often seen him use magic, and when he did, it seemed to require concentration, so she stayed quiet. Loki crossed the room in three long strides and disappeared into the bathroom. He was only gone for a few seconds, and he stopped muttering and reemerged, slump-shouldered and with the sort of controlled breathing that people do when they are out of breath but trying hard not to pant. He crossed the room again, more slowly this time, to collapse into the armchair by the curtained window, and then he sighed heavily and let his head fall aback against the top of the short-backed chair, exposing his throat. He rubbed his temples and then covered his eyes with one arm, and then he was still, and it seemed strange because he had been moving constantly since he had shown up in Asgardia.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Loki sighed again. “Gimme a minute,” he muttered again. “That was a lot of magic in one go.”

Verity didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t have needed to use magic at all if it wasn’t for her. How much _had_ he used? _Too_ much? Or was he just tired? Verity shoved her cold hands between her knees to warm them and looked at the floor, her stomach churning with guilt. She felt her ring digging into her leg and twisted it a little. It wasn’t hot anymore; there was that at least. The woman’s face was blurry in her mind. Old Loki’s wasn’t.

_The question isn’t who am I, but how am I._

If that’s who Loki would become, what was he going to _do_ to become like that? Would it be the magic? ( _Burning_.) Or something else? ( _Such a pity that our relationship should have to end so soon._ ) Or maybe nothing at all. ( _Your faith is astounding. And misplaced._ )

_Do you still think you can save us?_

Verity wasn’t sure she had ever really believed that. She believed that people generally needed to save themselves. You couldn’t depend on other people too much. You had to take care of yourself. It had never occurred to her that Loki _needed_ saving.

But as she sat there, surrounded by his magic, with Loki across the room recovering from a surge in magic use ( _burning_ ), the image of Old Loki branded into her mind, she suddenly wondered if he did.

But he could take care of himself, right? He was trying to change, right?

There was a click and Verity looked up. Loki was removing his armor; his diadem was already sitting on the table, looking out of place in the generic hotel room. He dropped his cuirass unceremoniously on the floor, and Verity realized why his armor had looked different. Underneath it, he was wearing a white shirt and a black tie over dress pants. The only thing missing was the jacket, and then he could be wearing his suit from the day they got married.

“Did you tie that yourself?” she asked, nodding toward his tie.

Loki finally looked up at her. “Huh? Oh.” He fingered the tie and smiled sheepishly. “I got by with a little help from Youtube. I thought to surprise you. Wear traditional Midgardian stuff again.”

Verity breathed out a short laugh and then, after a pause, broke into giggles. Loki gave her a perplexed frown and she stood up. “Hold on,” she said, and she set aside his coat and turned to face him to undo the buttons on her own. He raised an eyebrow, and Verity shook her head and held up a finger to signal that he should wait. When all of her coat buttons were undone, she pulled open her coat and let it slide off her arms to fall on the floor behind her. A dramatic presentation on purpose; it was for Loki after all. She had been planning to do it like this back at his apartment, but here in this hotel room, a thousand miles away, would have to do.

Loki’s eyes widened and he sat up in the chair. Verity bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“I wanted to surprise you, too,” she said. “This is why I saw Thor today for lunch.” She was wearing traditional Asgardian clothes, appropriate for the occasion (according to Thor): a green off-the-shoulder dress with angel sleeves and a long skirt, a black sash around her waist under a gold belt, and a thin, gold ceremonial breast plate carved with vines and rosebuds, held up by leather straps and metal brooches. All of it was borrowed from Thor’s friends and Lorelei; it had taken a month to plan the outfit.

Loki just stared at her for a full two minutes, stunned, and then he laughed. “Oh yeah,” he said. “That just _screams_ Thor’s style. Not nearly enough cleavage.”

Verity laughed. _That_ was more like him. “But do you like it?”

Loki grinned and stood up. “It’s excellent,” he said, coming forward for a closer look. He pulled on one of the leather straps on her shoulder and rubbed the fabric of a sleeve between his fingers. “Do _you_ like it?”

“It’s a little heavy,” she admitted. It was all the gold, she was sure, though the fabric of the dress itself was thick as well. “I think this outfit weighs more than I do.”

“We should switch clothes more often.”

Verity hummed and took his tie in her hand. “As long as I don’t have to run in this getup again,” she said. “You Asgardians are way sturdier.”

His smile faltered and he dropped his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “This was all my fault. I got you involved in my bullshit.”

Verity smiled sadly. “Loki…”

He wasn’t listening to her, too wrapped up in his own pity party. “I didn’t… I didn’t want you to see…” He struggled with the words. “…Me like that,” he muttered, looking away.

“I still don’t believe he has to be your only future,” she whispered, still holding his tie so he couldn’t back up, couldn’t run away. She wanted him to stay with her. She wanted… “I have to tell you something.”

Loki winced, but Verity didn’t let him interrupt. “No, listen—” she began.

“I never meant to—” he said.

“It’s really okay—”

“I only ever wanted… It doesn’t have to mean—”

“—because I love you, too.”

He met her eyes in shock, and Verity bit back a grin. Then, ever so slowly, Loki grinned too and then laughed. Verity joined him, unable to hold it in.

“Then what the fuck have we been doing all this time?” said Loki through his laughter. “Norns, we’re both idiots.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the _p_ and shaking his head. “I’m an idiot for my self-pity. _You’re_ an idiot because you were foolish enough to fall in love with _Loki_. That’s terribly stupid of you. I thought I had married a woman smarter than that.”

Verity yanked on his tie and pulled him down for a kiss. When they broke apart, they were both grinning. “Happy anniversary,” she said.

Loki laughed and then abruptly gasped. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I left dinner in the slow-cooker.”

Verity laughed and sat down on the bed while Loki quickly texted America to ask her to check if his apartment had burned down. Then he sat down next to Verity with a sigh and smiled.

“I’m, er, sorry,” he said. “Today didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Verity shrugged and wove her fingers into his. “It turned out all right.”

“Ugh. My poor dinner…” Verity laughed, and Loki squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry you had to hear it from him,” he said quietly.

“Better late than never.”

Loki chuckled. “Apparently it’ll take me a century to tell you.”

Verity hummed and met his eyes. “You could tell me now,” she suggested.

Loki smirked and leaned in to kiss her. Verity cupped his cheek with her hand, and he snaked an arm around her waist. He broke the kiss first and moved his lips to her ear.

It wasn’t going to solve all their problems. Verity knew that. They still had a lot of fighting to do—for the future, for each other.

But maybe, Verity thought, that was what it was all about. That glad struggle to just _be_ together, despite everything. They could fight for this. It would be worth it, she thought.

Old Loki was wrong; it wasn’t _about_ saving him. She wasn’t even certain she believed he needed to be saved. She wasn’t certain that he could save himself either, but that wasn’t the _point_.

And the future wasn’t set, no matter what vague statements Old Loki had made. Verity only believed in hard truths, in things she could see, in things that were real. Not things that couldn’t be proven. Not things that hadn’t even come to pass.

_Nobody’s ever lied to me. Because nobody can._

“I love you, Verity Willis.”

Now _that_ was something she could believe in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the epilogue and the last of this fanfic. Thank you so much for sticking with me this far!


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some loose ends are tied up, but not all of them, because after all, the future belongs to us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, dears. :) Sorry for the wait. Blame it on me trying to be meta.

_Living up to all my vows_

_‘Cause I’m keeping out of mischief now._

(Taj Mahal, _Keeping Out of Mischief Now_ )

 

“You’re staying out of trouble, right?”

Verity shrugged, even though America couldn’t see it over the phone. “All the trouble is centralized in Oklahoma,” she said.

“But you’re not getting involved,” said America, and Verity wasn’t sure if it was a question or an order.

“Not sure how I could,” said Verity with a snort. “It’s been _months_.”

Eight months, actually, since she had seen Loki, and texts had been rare. According to the Young Avengers, he had halted all activity on his social media accounts, too. Verity didn’t quite blame him; since the truth came out, it had seemed a little disrespectful to continue masquerading as his younger self online.

Thor hadn’t contacted Verity either, since he discovered the truth. She _definitely_ couldn’t blame _him_ ; she had pretty much literally been sleeping with the enemy.

And now they were both mired in the war in Asgardia. Verity could only get details of it through the news, which was more often lies or speculation than truths, and snippets of information from the Avengers themselves through Kate and America, but there seemed to be a schism going on, and Loki and Thor were on opposite sides. From time to time, Verity wondered if it was true once again and what Loki thought about that.

Regardless, she hadn’t heard anything from Asgardia. Since she had discovered the conditions of her rescue, she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it seemed that Loki was completing missions to the All-Mother’s satisfaction, giving them no reason to come after her again. Then his secret came out, and Thor dragged him to Asgardia, and no one had come for Verity. Maybe they had forgotten she existed. Who would think to remember Loki’s mortal wife anyway? What was a mortal to the affairs of gods?

“I’m safe,” said Verity, kicking at a pile of snow shoved up against the front face of her apartment building. “And anyway, if they try to kidnap me again like two years ago, I’ll just call in that favor from Doctor Doom.”

America groaned. “Madre dios, please don’t flaunt your relationships with supervillains. It makes me worry for you.”

“Well, I’m not exactly on the _Avengers’_ good side. I _married_ a former supervillain.”

“You’re not on their bad side either. And you’ve got us.”

Verity smiled. “Thanks, America.”

“Seriously. Call us if you need anything.” America paused. “Should we put a watch on you?”

“Tell you what,” said Verity, rolling her eyes fondly, “I’ll text you if my ring heats up.”

“You’re _still_ wearing that?”

“It saved me from a mugging last month.”

“A mugging.” America sighed heavily. “Whatever you say, chica.”

Verity seriously doubted that anyone would bother her, and she didn’t want to be tailed for an indefinite amount of time. She still had the wards on her apartment, unless they expired or something, and she had pilfered a few magic items from Loki’s apartment after Thor had smashed through the walls, carrying Loki off, and before the Avengers raided it. They had also interrogated Verity, but after that, they left her alone. She only knew how to use a few of the items, from the few times Loki had explained them, but they felt more like insurance than anything else.

Insurance for or against what, she wasn’t exactly sure anymore. She didn’t know that there was anything _left_ that could happen to her at this point.

* * *

 

Life with Loki was, to say the least, eventful.

It was normal for a little while after they returned to New York from Asgardia the day after their first anniversary. Loki continued to disappear periodically, and he tried to keep Verity updated. However, this newly instated trend of honesty lead to the revelation that Loki was working for the All Mother again.

That fight hadn’t lasted long; there was nothing they could do about it, and Verity certainly wasn’t going to hold Loki’s feelings against him the way the All Mother was. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it, and they had both set forth trying to find ways to get around his oath. So far, despite the research she and Billy had secretly done, they’d had no luck.

“What happens when you break a magic oath?” Verity had asked Billy, a little afraid to know the answer, and the look on Billy’s face didn’t bode well. “Tell me,” she demanded.

“Um,” he said, and then, wincing: “You die?”

“Okay,” Verity said, nodding and opening the tome Billy had “borrowed” from Doctor Strange. “Not an option.”

From what they could tell, the oath could only be broken by the one who held it—meaning the All Mother. She just had to release Loki from his promise.

“He could swear allegiance to someone else,” suggested Billy, flipping through another book on another day. “And then _that_ person could challenge the original oath holder for ownership over—”

“Great, so he’ll be beholden to someone else just as powerful, if not more so,” Verity snapped. “The point is to win his freedom, not to tie him to someone else.”

So they were stuck, and they couldn’t really go to anyone else for help. Verity felt uncomfortable even telling _Billy_ , who had sworn he wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Except for Teddy,” he’d added, a little defiantly. “We don’t keep secrets.”

“Fine,” she allowed, and Billy looked surprised and a little pleased. “But he’s not allowed to tell anyone either.”

Teddy never came to their researching sessions, though, except to drop off takeout. They continued in this pattern, researching whenever Loki was out, until one day in the summer when Loki and Verity were suddenly transported to Latveria.

And everything started to spiral from there.

* * *

 

A few weeks after the battle on Genosha found Verity in Loki’s apartment with a group of very tall, very confused Asgardians. It was her first time meeting Amora in person, and _wow_ , she didn’t like her. It certainly didn’t help that she draped herself over Loki like he was _hers_ , even though he wasn’t expressing much interest.

Not _much_ , anyway.

They drifted closer together as Loki told the story of what happened with the Red Skull, and finally, when Lorelei rebuffed her sister, Loki stood up from the couch and Amora had to shift over to straighten up from where she had been leaning on him.

“Let’s not fight, everyone,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly. “It’s hard enough to say good-bye without—”

“Wait, what?” Verity cut in. “What do you mean, ‘good-bye’?”

“Well, that’s the other reason I called you here,” he said slowly, and he pulled out a sheaf of papers from nowhere. “I haven’t been fair to you, Verity. The power dynamics of our relationship are entirely unbalanced. You’re a mortal, and even as a villain, I haven’t spent as much time with you as I should have. You deserve more attention. Now that I’m a hero, I’m afraid my responsibilities will—”

“You are so full of shit,” she said, and it came out in a low, dangerous whisper. “You think you’re being noble, but this is cowardly.”

“Verity…” he said, grimacing, and Verity hated the pity in it.

“I don’t know what the hell happened to you,” she said, clenching her fists at her sides, “but if you’re saying you don’t love me anymore—”

“Verity, if I really loved you, I wouldn’t put you in danger by keeping you so close,” Loki said softly.

It was right out of the hero’s handbook. It was selfish and paternalistic, and it made Verity want to throw up.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” she demanded, and then she waited. He just stared at her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t, can you? Because whether or not you do, what you’re doing right now is awful. And you know that. You used to _complain_ about the way heroes would do this shit.”

“I’ve changed, Verity,” he said, earnestly. “I’ve—”

But she didn’t wait to listen to his excuses. She stormed out, smacking the divorce papers out of his hands on her way past him.

* * *

 

It was the last time they saw each other until he came back a few days before their second anniversary, apologetic and ashamed and back to normal, except for an inability to lie.

It wouldn’t matter if he could lie or not, though. She would know the truth either way. And when she asked him again, he smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry you even need to ask that,” he said. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend. And no matter what happens, _that_ will never change.”

She could believe in that. She had to.

* * *

 

After hanging up with America, Verity walked into her apartment building. She checked her mailbox and was surprised to find it stuffed full. She grabbed the pile of envelopes to discover that most of it was one large, thick manila envelope. It had no address, but when she turned it over, she found something written just under the sealed flap.

_Happy anniversary_.

Verity held her breath and stared at the familiar loopy writing. Then she shut her mailbox and hurried up the stairs to her apartment. Once she was safely inside, with the door locked behind her, she dropped the rest of the envelopes, which were all bills and junk mail anyway, and held the thick envelope in both hands, her eyes fixed on the handwriting. The envelope wasn’t manila at all, but seemed rather to be made of parchment. Verity walked to her desk, not taking her eyes off the envelope in case it disappeared, and groped around for her letter opener.

The contents of the envelope were not what she expected, but she really should have known. She pulled out the papers to find that Loki had filled out every inch of the divorce papers (even forging Verity’s hand for a few parts _she_ really should have filled out herself), leaving only blank spaces for Verity’s signature and sticky notes marking where she might add or change things. Verity sank into her couch as she read through them: the alimony, the terms of divorce, the settlement, the distribution of assets (whoa, he had left her twenty-five thousand dollars, to be received via wire transfer at the time of filing). She went through the papers twice and checked the parchment envelope again, but there was no personal letter. Only a sticky note on the first page of the divorce agreement saying, _Do not file before January 6th._

Without thinking, Verity pulled out her phone, her heart pounding angrily, and texted Loki.

_How dare you._

_This is all you have to say?_

She immediately regretted sending anything. Loki hadn’t replied to her texts in over six months. It was foolish to expect anything now. She scrolled up to see the last texts she had sent, most along the lines of “where are you” and “hope you’re all right” and “I saw the news, are you okay?” and “just so you know, I still believe in you.” He had turned off the “read” notification a long time ago, before he had even ever disappeared, so she had no idea if he was getting her messages at all.

The last thing he had ever texted her was this: _just dont do anything I wouldnt do. or for that matter would do._

And she sent, _Be good_ , and he replied, _i’ll try_.

That was on April seventeenth.

Verity felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, and she shut off her phone screen and put her head in her hands. God damn it. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. She told herself she would be okay just knowing he loved her, that after a lonely life, just knowing she had a best friend was enough. But sometimes that seemed like nothing if he wasn’t there with her.

Her phone chimed in her hand and right next to her ear and she started. The divorce papers slid off her lap onto the floor, and Verity looked at her phone and froze. The screen was lit up with a text notification.

**Loki:** _heh. sorry_.

Her phone chimed again as another message slid onto the screen: **Loki:** I _was afraid u might not_ …

She slid her thumb across the screen to get to the messages and read the rest.

_…want to hear from me._

Verity snarled at the screen and quickly typed: _I didn’t. That’s why I totally wasn’t messaging you all the time. Notice all my texts read “don’t contact me.”_

_Asshole_ , she added as an afterthought.

The ellipses on the screen blinked at her for a full minute before Loki sent his reply.

_sarcasm doesnt become u, Verity_

_i wanted to write u_ , he continued. _i just didnt know what to say._

_What’s going on?_ she asked. _Where are you?_

_hiding ha ha._ Then: _i cant rly say. this isnt exactly a secure line._

_esp on ur end I mean. my phone is nigh impenetrable._

_unlike this vault lol_ , he added.

Verity coughed a laugh and sniffled. _Are you okay?_

_for a certain value of ok_ , he replied. _long story short: odin named me heir bc thor is unworthy, so the deal with the all mother is off. ur safe._

_What about you?_ she demanded.

It took him a while to reply, and the dots didn’t appear until his message came through.

_I feel trapped_ , he admitted. _and not just bc im in this vault. heir or not im still the god of lies. ill never be anything else._

_Bull shit_ , she said. _You can’t even lie right now, right? So what does God of Lies even mean? You already are something else._

_Don’t give up. I believe in you_ , she sent in a second message, desperately.

And: _It’ll be a new year. You get to decide what to do with this one._

A minute passed and Verity was afraid that was the end of it.

Then: _good advice. thank you._

_pls dont worry abt me. i g2g but do whatever u want w those papers._

_should all be in order._

_Jan 6 is when my immigratn files go thru._

_Will you come see me when you can?_ she asked.

_too dangerous_ , he said. _ok??_

Verity sighed. _OK. Good luck. Be good._

_lol_ , he replied. _i'll try ;)_

_There is no try, there is only do_ , she wrote. She had finally sat down with Billy to watch the Star Wars movies. Loki would have been proud, but he didn’t reply.

Verity sat back and watched her phone screen for a few minutes until it automatically went to sleep. She picked up the divorce papers and shuffled them back into order, then slipped them back into the envelope. She needed to have Stark’s lawyers look over them, just in case, but she was in no hurry. She wasn’t positive that she was going to sign them at all. She hadn’t decided yet.

After all, they were married still, and that meant he would have to come back.

Verity smiled to herself. She would think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me this long, everyone! I’m sorry again about the wait, but life happened. You know how it is. You get mired in some weird civil war in Asgardia and suddenly eight months have passed and you haven’t even texted your wife… So you send her some divorce papers and give her a choice. And then she reminds you that you have one, too.
> 
> And then it’s time to begin a new story. ;)


End file.
